The Joker and Her
by AvatarBliss
Summary: Since her mother was killed, grief and pain have become the biggest part of Brienne's world. Unable to come to terms with her death, Brienne blindly jumps into the world of Hogwarts School, where she encounters matchmakers, red-headed pranksters, very disturbing dreams and - hopefully - the answer to the ultimate question: Who killed her beloved mother?
1. The Dementors on the Train

The Joker and Her 

Chapter 1

The Dementors on the Train

Brienne Christie walked down the short carriages of the Hogwarts Express, peeking into compartments in search of an empty one. As one of the last new students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to actually get onto the train, Brienne was passing full carriages containing people her age who knew each other greatly, or first-years who were awkwardly but eagerly conversing about Quidditch teams and discussing which House they were to be placed in when they _finally_ arrived at Hogwarts School. Brienne felt like in another life she could have joined them. 

Sighing, she surveyed the moving train through bleary eyes. Her blurry vision seemed to be eternally tinged a gloomy grey, and the sounds of excitement and joy surrounding her didn't quite penetrate the bubble that she had crafted around herself, fading in and out as she passed and never quite clear.

Knocking on the door of another compartment, Brienne tugged on her long black Hogwarts robe, trying to imbue it with some form of style. She had a fleeting and nostalgic thought of the figure-hugging blue dresses she had to wear at her old school and decided that perhaps her new uniform wasn't that bad. She thought that in retrospect, it wasn't the biggest thing in her life that had turned upside-down in the last few months.

"Come in," came a female, somewhat dreamy voice from inside the carriage.

Brienne opened the sliding door, only to find it occupied by just one young girl, curled on the seat next to the window. Younger looking than Brienne, the girl had grey eyes with long light blonde hair pulled into a braid. Her black robe had a blue crest adorned on it with a picture of a bronze eagle, an 'R' emblazoned over the bird. As she stared up at Brienne from the magazine that she had been reading, her large round eyes appeared to glitter with energy.

"Um, is it alright if I sit here? Everywhere else is, um, occupied."

"Of course you can," she said kindly, returning her gaze to the magazine. She had a wispy and soft voice that added to her dreamy quality.

Brienne sat opposite the girl, took out her wand - rosewood, nine and a half inches, unicorn hair, delectably sturdy - from her pocket and rubbed it on her robes, trying to make it cleaner. They sat for a few minutes in silence, the mysterious blonde girl crossing her legs and staring absent-mindedly at her magazine. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Brienne cleared her throat.

The girl looked up, seemingly forgetting that she had a companion, and spoke, "You're new, aren't you?" She put aside her magazine, which then Brienne realised that she had been holding upside-down.

"Yes. How did you know?" Brienne's gaze sank to her feet - if her newness was spotted so easily, then she would not be looking forward to the coming days.

"I didn't see you last year. I mean, you aren't a first-year, are you?"

"I suppose not."

"How old are you, may I ask?"

"I'm fifteen, and starting my fifth year. I'm from Beauxbatons."

The girl smiled encouragingly. "Oh yes, your accent shows." 

Brienne blushed in embarrassment; she hadn't realised she still had an accent.

"I'm Brienne Christie," Brienne said, thinking it appropriate to introduce herself, "and you?"

"Luna Lovegood," she said breezily, "Although some people call me Loony Lovegood. It's rather funny, isn't it? Funny play of words."

Brienne felt a wave of sympathy for Luna, despite the girl's lack of distress or embarrassment over this nickname. She simply sat, twiddling her thumbs, staring dreamily out of the window at the passing scenery.

They two sat for the best part of an hour, mostly in silence. Brienne appreciated how Luna didn't seem to have the need to talk and appeared perfectly happy to sit in a quiet compartment alone with a perfect stranger from another land. This comforted Brienne, as she simply didn't have the energy to converse much: she had too much going through her head. New uniform, new people, new school, (mostly) new country. Goodness knew her life had changed, and if Luna asked much more about her life, Brienne wouldn't exactly know how to answer. But, thankfully, Luna barely said a word, and before long returned to reading her magazine.

But then - just as the girls seemed to fall into a comfortable companionship - the train slowed to a dramatic stop, and all of the lights went out. Luna looked up, having only noticed that the train had stopped because the landscape had stopped passing the window. At the abrupt stop, Brienne's heart jumped to her throat. Her nerves building, Brienne looked at Luna to see if this was routine. Her companion shook her head, looking puzzled. They could hear the confused murmurs of students up and down the train. Brienne stood, opened the carriage door and stuck her head out to see what was happening. Opposite them at the same time, a boy somewhat her age, perhaps a little younger, did the same thing, and their heads knocked together.

"Hey, watch what you're doing!" the boy snarled. He had a green crest on his robes and silver-blonde hair. Brienne narrowed her eyes as the boy shut his door in her face. He was certainly someone to avoid.

Returning to her seat, Brienne couldn't help but notice that everything had gotten significantly colder. Wrapping her thick robes around herself Brienne stood to check the window was shut. It was. Frozen shut, in fact.

Worriedly, Brienne opened the carriage door again, ignoring Luna's comment ("Cold, isn't it? Oh, I am hungry, I hope they have that pie they had at the feast last year - that was lovely...") and poked her head out for a second time, before immediately jumping back.

Outside their carriage and a little to the side floated a tall clocked figure with scabby, bony arms. It was facing the inside of another carriage and those who occupied it. Just seeing it made ice grip Brienne's heart. Her breath caught in her throat, and the terrible, sharp sadness clouded her mind and sank her heart.

Sensing that Luna was joining her at the door, Brienne turned and saw another one of the creatures gliding down the corridor, straight toward their carriage. Gasping simultaneously, Luna and Brienne slammed the door shut and pressed their bodies against it, praying that the creature couldn't get in. They could hear the creatures' harsh, gasping breaths through the thin compartment door.

"What _are_ t-they?" Brienne asked Luna, her voice shaky.

Luna seemed peculiarly calm now that the creature was locked in the other side. She smiled at Brienne. "I'm not sure. Daddy said something about Cloaked Farnzies coming to the school this year."

"What on Earth are Cloaked Farnzies?"

"Well, Daddy says they glide around gathering warmth...but there's not a lot of warmth here, so they can't be around for too long." 

It began to dawn on Brienne why people called her Loony Lovegood.

After a while of struggling to keep the door closed against the cloaked creature, it seemed to give up, and warmth slowly returned, enveloping the two girls. The lights came back on and the train started to move again, sending Luna and Brienne flying into their seats. Her breath no longer heaving, Brienne got seated comfortably and the ice and fear around her heart began to disappear, for the now muted pain to take over, again.

A few minutes later, a female voice sounded across the train,  
"Sorry for tha' dis'urbance. The Demen'ors were just scanning the train as a safety precaution. We will be stopping a' Hogsmeade Station soon. Thank you."

As the voice died away, there was a soft murmur that could be heard from across the train, which appeared to be the students discussing the disturbance from the Dementors. Brienne could hear the boy from the opposite carriage raging at his friends.

"Dementors? _Dementors_! What do they think they're doing? Just they wait until my father hears about this; there will be an inquiry..."

Brienne rolled her eyes. She hadn't escaped the spoiled princesses.

At Beauxbatons, it was hard to identify a friend, as most girls looked very similar, with their long silvery blonde hair, navy blue eyes and smooth complexions. Despite being included in this unspoken tradition, Brienne was much shorter for her age and was slightly rounded, and - more recently - had the washed-out, pallid face of an invalid.

After a while, the train pulled to a stop, and Brienne and Luna grabbed all of their close-at-hand belongings and started to exit the train, along the way being squashed in between a dark boy with dreadlocks and a tall boy with red hair and glasses. Finally stepping off of the train, Brienne and Luna squeezed through the crowds to a beautiful lakeside. The platform was packed with students of all shapes and sizes. Brienne could hear a man with a gruff voice yelling, "Firs-years! Firs-years this way please! Firs-years!" 

Brienne stopped walking against the pushing throng, blinked and turned to Luna, who suggested she go and ask the man where she was supposed to be. The younger girl set off, sitting alone and waving dreamily from the top of a floating carriage that began to pull itself down a winding road.  
Brienne turned, shivering in the chilly September breeze and moved to where the voice came from, and found herself standing in front of a huge man, at least double her height and five times her weight. He had a large wild beard which when combined with his hair, covered most of his face. He was a truly intimidating sight.

"Ah, you're the Christie girl, ain't yeh? Uhh..." he bellowed over the excited shouting of the students making their way around the lakeside. He consulted a sheet of paper in his hand, "Bree-en?"

Brienne nodded, gulping, and the large man took her by the arm (his hand was big enough to swallow her whole limb) and took her over to the lakeside, where a large group of indisputably first-years were standing. There were a dozen small row-boats bobbing in the water.

They waited for a few moments until most of the calling and shouting from the older students had subsided slightly, before the giant man puffed his chest out importantly and began to speak,

"Righ', we're all gonna be goin' on these boats across the lake to Hogwarts. I'm Hagrid; I'm th Gamekeeper o' Hogwarts. After goin' across the lake, yur' goin' inside the castle, where you will be sorted into yer' houses. Any questions?"

The first years - all of whom were at least up to Brienne's elbows in height - looked at each other nervously and then up to Brienne.

Hagrid continued after nobody spoke, "Righ', off we go then, _four _to a boat, Brienne you have a boat to yerself. Come on then, off we go!"

The first years squelched off after the Gamekeeper and pushed each other into the boats, laughing and screaming. Brienne stared at them; this was certainly an inelegant way of introducing new students to the school. Another way that this school would surely be different from her last. Another way that she would have to behave.

Another way her life had changed, forever.


	2. Sorting

The Joker and Her

Chapter 2

Sorting

Brienne was cringing. When all of the first-years had settled in the rocky little rowboats- four to each- Brienne, who could hardly fit into one on her own, heard someone laughing from the floating carriages and yelling "Look at her!"

She scowled as the boats sped forward magically over the glass-like black water, her ponytail flying behind her as she saw Hogwarts Castle for the first time.

Brienne's first thought was that it was stunning. Huge, grey, with enormous turrets and towers, and along with the black Forest and the glassy lake, which were both undoubtedly filled with magical creatures, the whole place had a glistening aura. Brienne's eyes glowed with awe, and she found herself captivated by the enormous structure as they grew closer to the shore. She couldn't help but make comparisons to her old school, Beauxbatons; Hogwarts appeared so huge and grand, so stately compared to the elegant fortress that she used to call home.

After about ten minutes, the boats completed their passage to the other side of the lake, bumping against the bank as if they couldn't wait to be rid of their passengers. The first-years, Hagrid and Brienne got out and walked through the grounds, passing by several large greenhouses, and a huge tree that seemed to quiver angrily as they proceeded past it. There was a slight breeze which made some of the students shiver; Brienne hitched her shoulders up from the chill. Some of the lights were on in the castle, and they gave the impression of warm comfort. Brienne couldn't wait to get inside.

They walked up some stone steps to an enormous wooden door which was taller than all of them put together. Hagrid stepped forward and opened the door with a hand the size of a dustbin lid, and the new students trooped in. Inside, there was a large Entrance Hall with several marble staircases that wound upwards and downwards, and corridors that went in all directions. The castle smelled of stone and of wood polish, and was lit with several flaming torches at regular intervals along the walls. Hagrid moved to the front of the group to address them.

"Well this is as far as I'm takin' yeh. Now yeh go up those stairs," he pointed towards a staircase that went up one floor, "and you'll meet Professor McGonagall, who'll take yeh to yeh Sortin'." He gave a hefty wave and disappeared down a corridor.

Immediately all of the first-years swivelled around to look at Brienne, who turned red.

"Uhh."

She knew what they wanted her to do. Tentatively, Brienne stepped forward, and with the eleven-year-olds following her, they ascended one floor. Once there, a tall, thin, stern-looking woman waited for them. She was wearing emerald green robes, had her jet black hair in a tight bun and glasses poised on her pointed nose. She nodded at Brienne as they appeared from the staircase.

"Hello," She greeted, her voice echoing around them. "I am Professor McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Welcome to the school on behalf of the staff. I am about to take you into the Great Hall," the Professor waved her hand behind her, where an even more impressive door than before stood closed; they could hear a loud hum of conversation from the other students behind the door, "where you shall be placed into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

All of these houses seemed to arouse some kind of reaction from the first-years. Some of their faces brightened up at the prospect of being placed in Gryffindor; however trepidation sparked on some of their faces when they heard the word 'Slytherin'. Brienne personally didn't know the difference, but she supposed she wouldn't mind being placed in Luna's house.

_Then at least I know someone._ Brienne thought. McGonagall then went on to explain the Houses and the House Points system, which made the first-years look excited but just worried Brienne.

Professor McGonagall looked at Brienne with the air of someone who was looking at an extra chore.

"You are Brienne Christie, I believe?"

"Yes," her voice croaked from lack of use.

"Your wand, please."

Confused and worried, Brienne pulled out her rosewood wand and handed it to the Professor. She took out her own wand and put the tips of both wands together. At contact, red and silver sparks emanated from both wands. McGonagall nodded, and handed back Brienne's wand.

"Just a quick check, to see if everything is in order. It is not often that we accept foreign students. Now; come with me, please."

The Professor turned, and the huge door behind her opened as she began walking. Brienne let her fellow new students follow before walking in herself, placing herself in the back of the group.

They walked into one of the biggest rooms Brienne had ever seen, with golden walls, sparkling silver windows and four long tables filled with seated students. Woven crests hung overhead showed which table was for which house. Along the tables was a raised platform where several teachers sat, including Hagrid, who was at the edge.

At their entrance, every eye in the room seemed to turn to them, and silence fell. Brienne turned bright red as she saw Luna sitting at one of the tables waving. She pursed her lips in a smile and nodded in Luna's direction, grateful for her support.

Sitting in front of the Teacher's Table was a three legged stool, whereupon an old, tatty, dirty hat sat. McGonagall strode and stood beside the stool and a large roll of parchment materialised out of thin air, and landed in her hands. Before McGonagall could say a word, a large rip opened in the hat and it began to speak:

"_Welcome, new students are thee;_

_Just you watch while I count to three,___

_and proceed to tell you why I am here,___

_and why it is but once a year!_"

The Sorting Hat's speech lasted a few minutes, explaining to Brienne and the new students about the four houses and how different they were; as a result, Brienne could see why some of the students were worried about being placed in Slytherin. After the Hat's voice died away, the students and teachers alike applauded politely, and McGonagall righted her glasses and lifted her parchment.

"Andrews, Samuel."

A boy with tamed straw hair stepped forward, a big, excited grin plastered upon his face. He sat onto the stool and the Hat was dropped onto his head. Mere seconds later, the Hat shouted,

"Hufflepuff!"

The middle right of the tables exploded in applause, as Samuel Andrews practically fell off the stool in order to be seated at his new House Table.

"Cook, Lee."

A tiny boy with curly brown hair sat on the stool.

"Gryffindor!"

A similar reaction occurred, as Lee Cook sat down. The Sorting went on for a while, with the first years being Sorted in alphabetical order. Brienne became slightly anxious when the Sorting went past C in the alphabet. She hoped she hadn't been forgotten, and reasoned that she would be left until the end.

"Queen, Wilhelmina."

A frightened looking girl with long dark hair sat on the chair, and the Hat immediately called her house,

"Slytherin!"

On and on the first-years were placed, until only Brienne remained. At seeing her name on the register, McGonagall looked up and spoke to the student body, her voice suddenly magically magnified.

"Before this student is placed, I must remind you that this new student is from Beauxbatons, and shall be joining the fifth-year class, as I am sure Professor Dumbledore informed you..."

McGonagall turned fleetingly to a grand old man with silver hair and beard, half-moon glasses and royal blue robes. He was sitting in the middle of the staff table and looked at Brienne with piercing blue eyes, nodding slowly.

"...and I remind you to treat her with respect and to help her with directions if need be. Now-"

Again, all eyes were upon Brienne, who was shrinking in her robes, she was so embarrassed. All that fuss over her...

"Christie, Brienne."

Slowly, Brienne stepped forward and sat on the stool, a spasm of fear and dread hitting her for the first time. There was never anything like this at her old school. Then she felt the light weight of the Hat falling in front of her eyes and darkness hitting her. Taking a deep breath, in her head Brienne could hear the Hat speculating what house to place her in.

"_Hmmm...oh there's smarts, yes...oh, but bitterness and fear...great sense of justice...caring nature...but what house? What one?"_

Not knowing herself what House she wanted to be placed in, Brienne's heart was encased in fear as she felt the Hat open its mouth.

"Gryffindor!"

Brienne turned towards her new House, which burst into applause at receiving the new girl. She hopped off the stool, replacing the Sorting Hat on it. The only free space on the bench was next to a redheaded boy, younger than her, who was gulping down a large goblet of pumpkin juice.

After a few minutes, Professor Dumbledore stood in his regal blue robes and announced to the students that Dementors would be guarding the school and the grounds from Sirius Black, the criminal that had escaped from the prison Azkaban the same week that Brienne had arrived in England to live with her father.

Leaving his announcement to sink in, the Headmaster then smiled and said, "Tuck in."

And all the food suddenly materialised out of thin air! Platters of all kinds of food imaginable were spread out extravagantly over the four House Tables. The red-headed boy next to her practically dove in, piling his plate up with chicken legs, baked beans and chips, talking with his mouth full to the bushy haired girl sitting on his other side.

Brienne also tucked in, pulling a slice of steak and ale pie onto her plate, grabbing a silver goblet of juice and downing it in one. She hadn't eaten since that morning, when her father had given her a hearty breakfast.

"Something to fill you up until the train ride," he had said. However, Brienne had passed on the train food, knowing she would get a wonderful welcome in the famous Hogwarts Feast that her father had gone on about when she arrived in England. Her father had been a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts in his youth, but Brienne was not brought up by him, favouring her French mother. The reason of her sudden move, well...

Too painful for Brienne to think about.

The students and staff ate for what seemed like a long time, all of the new kids being introduced to second years, or the friends of their older siblings. Brienne was mostly ignored except for the occasional question about Beauxbatons and if there were any female students that needed a pen pal (these mostly coming from sixth year boys), but she didn't mind, having only been in the school for an hour. The only other contact she had with others was from her neighbours at the table, indicating which foods were the tastiest. She was perfectly happy to be left alone and let everything wash over her.

Brienne and all of the other students stopped what they were doing as Professor McGonagall tapped a fork against her glass, calling for attention. The staff table had also stopped, not looking worried in the slightest. Brienne, confused, looked around at her fellow Gryffindors. Most of them were staring at the platters of food, grinning, only for them to again grab them and share them around.

Brienne looked at her plate, and found that the main courses, all the meals you could imagine, had disappeared, and replacing them were desserts of all kinds. A smile growing on her face, Brienne grabbed some crème brulee.

A while later, Dumbledore stood and told all of the students to go to bed.

"Now that we have been fed and watered, I think we all need a rest. Go and sleep and prepare for first lessons tomorrow. Goodnight!"

He had also said that prefects were to lead their houses to their common rooms. At Dumbledore's words, Brienne heard lots of scraping as all of the students stood and followed their respective prefects to the Entrance Hall. The Gryffindors went up some floors, and down a corridor where a large portrait of a fat lady wearing a red dress was decorating the walls. The prefect stepped forward, the crowd of Gryffindors bustling.

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady in the portrait.

"_Fortuna Major_."

The Fat Lady nodded grimly, and the portrait swung open to reveal a large hole in the wall. The prefect led the way through the hole and opened a door on the other side, to the common room.

The room was extravagantly decorated in red and gold colours, a large banner of a golden lion glimmered over a roaring fire, two big and squashy looking armchairs sitting there, just crying out for company. At the back of the room, two staircases spiralled up, out of sight. The second, third, fourth and so on years went up the stairs, the boys on the left, the girls on the right, and some lingered in the common room, making themselves comfortable.

The first years and Brienne stood, trying to edge to the fire to warm themselves up. The prefect, a tall, dark haired boy stood in front.

"Welcome to the Gryffindor common room. You'll be spending a lot of your time up here, so make sure you make yourselves at home and get to know as many of your fellow housemates as possible. The dormitories are up the stairs, the boys to the left, the girls on the right. Your belongings have been brought up already."

The boy then climbed up the left staircase, some of the first years following. Brienne stood there alone, looking around at the room she was in, soaking it in. Most of the Gryffindors that had stayed in the common room avoided her gaze, so, after considering going out to look for Luna, who was unfortunately in a different house, she trudged upstairs to the girls' dormitory, concluding that she could find her tomorrow.

The staircase ended with a large, wooden door with a rounded finish. Brienne turned the old iron handle and helped herself in. Inside was another room that had several floors going both up and down, all pieced together by another spiral staircase.

In a circle were five four-poster beds. They looked incredibly comfortable, with large trunks at the foot of them containing the owners' belongings. Each of the old, wooden trunks was carved with a single name.

Seeing that her name wasn't on any of them, she went up three floors, where she finally found her bed. It was cherry red, the curtains elegantly draped to just reveal the plumped-up pillows and scarlet spread. Brienne, tired, placed her wand on the small bedside table and took off her robes. She fell into bed, and was immediately asleep.


	3. Lupin's Welcome

The Joker and Her

Chapter 3

Lupins Welcome

The next morning; Brienne was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for breakfast. She was wearing her black robes with the new red and gold badge on the chest pocket that had somehow been freshly ironed and folded in the middle of the night, waiting for her on top of her trunk when she awoke. Her wand was in her pocket and beneath her robes she wore a crisp white blouse, black trousers and comfortable shoes (she rejoiced that kitten heels were not compulsory at Hogwarts, as they were at Beauxbatons for girls). Her blonde hair was up in a bun.

She was eating her breakfast alongside a red-headed girl called Ginny, who had taken the space next to her. Brienne had helped herself to eggs, bacon and orange juice whilst Ginny asked her about Beauxbatons.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Brienne said at Ginny's question at what it was like to be a student there, "Everybody's being awful to someone, you have to look _perfect_ every day otherwise people don't really talk to you_._"

"So, I'm really not missing anything?"

"Right. With my first impressions on this place," Brienne had said, indicating the Great Hall with a wave of her arm, "Hogwarts is far more comfortable."

Luna had not yet arrived to breakfast. Despite this, Brienne, desperate for a new friend, gave a small smile at her new companion. Ginny did look quite disappointed at the facts; Brienne had been shocked to find that the perception of her old school at Hogwarts was one of lavish glamour, when really every day was a beauty contest, rather than magical learning.

Minutes later, Professor McGonagall went walking up and down the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables. When she got to Brienne and Ginny, she gave them their timetables, parchment rolled up. She nodded at Brienne, her eyes showing some warmth, and walked away. Ginny picked up her bag and stood up.

"I'm going to go and find my friends. See you later."

"Bye," Brienne smiled again, watching Ginny pass and nod at a boy with black hair and glasses who was passing. Brienne looked back to her timetable, her appetite slowly disappearing. Freezing, her gaze shot back up at the boy who had just passed.

_Is that... _Brienne thought, _Harry Potter?_ She watched as the boy sat alongside a girl with bushy hair and the red-headed boy who Brienne had sat next to at the previous nights' banquet. The boy shared a joke with the red-headed boy and they both laughed, and he brushed back the hair on his forehead to reveal a small lightening shaped scar. _There's the scar,_ she went on thinking_, so it _is _him. _

_She marvelled for a moment, having forgotten that she would be now sharing a house with the Boy Who Lived. _The bell then rang, signalling morning lessons were to start in the next ten minutes, and Brienne jumped up, swinging her bag over her shoulder and shoving her timetable up to her eye level.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Brienne read out loud, and added to herself, "and I haven't got a clue where to go.

She looked up and down at her fellow Gryffindors for anyone who could be fifth year. Potter and his friends had already gone, although she knew he was at least a year younger than she was. Deciding that she would find her own way there, Brienne folded up her timetable and slipped it into the pocket with her wand. She made her way from the Great Hall, nervously wondering where to go.

She entered the Entrance Hall where there was a corridor leading off towards a massive sequence of staircases; many students had decided to leave for lessons as early as the bell, and Brienne hung back until they had filtered away. It took her several moments to realise that these stairways moved of their own accord.

Grumbling at herself, Brienne was just about to attempt jumping on a moving staircase before a voice made her jump and almost slide right off the corridor. She pulled herself back up just as the person spoke again

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Brienne frowned and turned. The boy who had spoken to her was tall (well, taller than Brienne, which wasn't difficult), red-headed and good looking. He had a smirk on his face and held his hand out; seemingly unaware that he had frightened the living daylights out of her. Brienne shook his hand silently, getting ready to rattle off the riff on Beauxbatons and how the girls aren't perfect and how no, they most certainly didn't need pen pals, a riff that seemed to be needed whenever a boy had approached her in the last twelve hours.

The boy raised his eyebrow at her, and then looked over his shoulder at another boy, completely identical to him, who was bent over with laughter halfway down the corridor. They were both Gryffindors, as was apparent by the crests on their robes. Brienne looked between the two boys, as the laughing one joined them. They didn't seem to have any physical dissimilarities; they even stood and walked in exactly the same way. Not one hair on their heads were different. The boy who had snuck up on her grinned.

"Hello there."

"Hi." Brienne was at a loss to what they were up to, now.

"Are you lost?" The other boy asked.

"Yeah, I am actually," Brienne frowned at them. "Are you fifth year?"

"We are," they both said at the same time. Brienne almost jumped back in surprise. The second boy held his own hand out.

"I'm George, and this is-"

"-Fred," they both said.

Brienne took George's hand and shook it, not realising he had held her hand for far too long until he let go. Fred seemed to notice it as well, looking at his brother with an amused look on his face.

The warning bell sounded, and Fred and George, as if the bell sparked their motion, leaped forward and pushed Brienne down the corridor. Brienne tried to run forward and away from these boys, but they caught up to her and - with each taking one of her arms - ran forward themselves and pulled her along.

"Ooh, look, she's following us, George," Fred spoke to his brother, "I think she may have a crush on me!"

"Oh no, it's me. Check out this pulling power!"

Brienne scowled as they reached a classroom door. Fred and George finally let go of her as Brienne marched in, righting her now tousled robes and hair.

The classroom was large, with the desk near the winding staircase which came from the door. The vast majority of the room was taken by benches at which three people each sat. Almost all of the students had arrived, and a single bench was vacant near the front of the class.

"Perfect!" the twins said at the same time. They simultaneously grabbed Brienne again and guided her toward the vacant bench, where they sat her down in the middle. They sat down on either side of her, each putting an arm around her shoulders. Brienne cringed.

Shrugging their arms off, Brienne said, "Look, please. Stop."

"What are we doing?" George asked, looking over at his brother, "What do you reckon, Fred?"

"She's in love with us, obviously."

Brienne sighed. Fred and George sighed. Brienne glared at them, and they both smiled. Brienne sat back, clearly at a loss to what these boys were up to.

There was then a clunk as the door closed. Brienne and the twins looked up to see a young man entering the room, a few books under his arm. He had a few faded scars on his worn face and had short flecks of grey in his brown hair. His hazel eyes were wise beyond his years.

The man, dressed in a long black cloak, set his things on the teachers' desk. He then took off the cloak to reveal a tatty shirt and trousers. He went to the front of the desk and leant on it, his arms folded, his gaze sweeping across the class.

At his entrance, the pupils- who before were chattering- fell silent.

"Good morning," the teacher said, "my name is Professor Lupin, and I shall be teaching your class this year for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Lupin stood up straight and made his way to the back of the class, where he lifted his wand and conjured a large figure, something that looked like a tin crash test dummy, out of thin air. Lupin made his way to the front of the class again, where he waved his wand again and his desk flew to the side of the room and stayed there.

"Wands out, please."

Brienne quickly took out her wand and threw down her cloak. She then went over to Lupin, where the other students were standing, looking energized. The twins followed, looking geared up for some practical work; apparently this did not happen often. With a last wave of his wand, Lupin made the rest of the desks fly to the walls so that there was more space.

"Stand in a line, please," Lupin said simply, turning to the dummy as the students scrambled to get in a line, "today, we shall be learning the ways of combat. I believe that you have all taken part in duels, so this will be good practise for you."

Brienne, who was halfway down the line, stood on her tip-toes so she could look over the shoulder of Fred, who was standing in front of her. Lupin, at the front of the line, said,

"The first spell we shall be learning is the repel charm. It blocks spells that are being shot at you and can also send your opponent back."

Lupin stepped forward, flicking his wand at the dummy,

"_Stupefy!"___

A jet of red light shot out from the end of Lupin's wand. It hit the target on the dummy's stomach and it was blasted back, crumpled against the wall.

"Now you!" yelled Lupin, who ran forward and levitated the dummy from the floor. The next student in the line, a Ravenclaw girl, panicked and said the wrong spell, which resulted in the dummy being transformed into a canary. The girl, embarrassed, went to the back of the line. The students laughed as Lupin got into a pickle trying to catch the canary, and then turned it back to normal.

Fred, who was next, stepped forward.

"_Stupefy_!"

The spell was almost successful, but it missed its mark and smashed the mirror on the wall behind the dummy. George creased up in laughter. Brienne laughed also, as Fred gave his brother a high five- as if he had done the spell as perfectly as their teacher- and joined the Ravenclaw girl at the end of the line.

Brienne was next. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, and with a flick of her wand, cast the spell.

"_Stupefy_!" she yelled, as a somewhat dim red light shot out from her wand and hit the dummy's head, which bent back slightly.

"Well done!" said Lupin, who nodded at Brienne, "Work on your focus, though," She nodded back and smiled at herself as she joined Fred at the back of the line. George was similar to Fred, he missed the mark, but did cast such a powerful spell that the dummy's head was blasted off. It was quite different from any lesson that Brienne had ever had; generally, she was used to practising spells in her spare time rather than actually performing them in lessons.

In the final moments of the class, the pupils filing out of the door, Brienne was just about to follow the twins when she heard the Professor calling her back.

"Miss Christie."

The twins 'oohed' at her, but Brienne ignored them and returned to Lupin's desk, standing before him with her head slightly down.

"Yes, sir?"

He looked up from his books, his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Don't look so worried, Brienne. You're not in trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact." He stood and went to lean on the front of his desk, his arms folded.

"I don't suppose you remember me, but..." Lupin looked lost for words for a moment, then rubbed his brow and started again, "I don't suppose you remember me, but I was a great friend of your father's. I last saw you when you were very little, only a baby, I think. I just called you back to welcome you to the school."

Brienne snapped her gaze back up at him and stared into his face, trying to remember him, to no success. Lupin blinked at her, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly.

"You look very much like your mother, Brienne."

Brienne's breath hitched and she hung her head, trying not to let the remark upset her.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm extremely sorry for your loss. I used to be friends with her as well-"

"Do you know how she died?" Brienne whispered urgently, tears in her eyes.

Lupin looked at her, confused for a moment before replying, "I'm afraid not, my dear. I'm very sorry."

"It's alright," Brienne tried to get herself together and forced her tears back, gave a small, strained, disappointed smile, "I should go."

"Oh! Well, I was going to talk to you about your..."

"I have to go, I'll come back later. Bye, Professor." Brienne replied as the warning bell for the next lesson sounded. She hurried up the steps, furiously wiping her tears without letting the teacher see.

She brightened up her face (even though it wasn't genuine) at the twins, who had unexpectedly waited for her outside the door. Fred, who was halfway down the corridor, was gesturing for her and George to follow.

As they did so, George reached out and flicked a stray tear from the corner of Brienne's eye.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine!" Brienne said breezily. George did not look convinced.

He stopped walking, "What did Lupin want?" he asked seriously. Fred had stopped walking also.

"Nothing." Brienne replied. She caught up with Fred and walked with him to their next lesson: Herbology. George joined them without saying a word.

As the day passed, Brienne spent most of the time with the twins, trying to get her mind off of the conversation with Professor Lupin.


	4. My Mother

The Joker and Her

Chapter 4

My Mother

Brienne's first week at Hogwarts went well, considering. After arriving at most of her lessons and finding Fred and George Weasley beckoning her over to their table, she appeared she had no choice but to become friends with them, and had quickly gotten used to their hyperactive and mischievous banter. She then sat with them at nearly every meal, and her presence in the Common Room seemed to spur them into completing their homework along with her. They did not seem to mind this swift attachment; they took Brienne under their wing and it helped to ease her transition into the school. Brienne had also spent some fleeting time with Luna- the girl that she was sitting with on the Hogwarts Express- but had quickly realised that she was far too young, and far too distant, and far too..._odd_, to cement a friendship with her.

It was her second Saturday morning at Hogwarts, and Brienne, Fred and George were sitting at the Gryffindor table when the letter arrived. Brienne didn't have an owl, but she spotted her father's dark grey owl Serge immediately as they flocked in to deliver their post. Serge landed gracefully on Fred's plate of scrambled eggs and sausages and lifted his leg to reveal a roll of parchment tied to it. George rolled around in his seat with laughter as Fred cried out, outraged at his ruined breakfast.

Brienne tried to hide the fact that she had frozen in anticipation as she detached the letter and ripped it open, recognising her fathers' handwriting. Serge took off immediately, swooping off to the bright ceiling and out of sight.

"Wait!" Brienne called after it, her eyes averted from the letter, "What if I want to write back? Serge!"

But he was gone.

"Just use one of the school's owls," Fred replied, taking a piece of fried bread from George's plate, "Just take the letter up to the Owlery and away you go."

But Brienne had already opened her fathers' letter and was halfway through reading it. The Twins watched her apprehensively, waiting for her to finish reading. Seconds later, Brienne looked up from the letter- her eyes averted from the Twins- her lower lip twitching. She had dropped the fork in her hand that has some bacon hooked on it. She stood, the Twins pausing again.

"I'm going to the Owlery." she said, her voice hitching and sounding like she was trying hard not to cry. She picked up her bag and hurried off, the letter that she had hastily stuffed in her bag fluttering out and landing on the floor.

"Brienne!" George shouted- concerned- after her. He looked at his brother, who had picked up the letter and had given it a cursory glance. George stood, picking up his own bag and in turn, rushed after her. Fred watched him go, and then began to read the letter from Brienne's father.

___My dear Brienne, ___

_I hope your first week at Hogwarts was a fun one, and that you've made lots of friends and progress in your lessons, which I am sure you are doing. ___

_I understand that Remus spoke to you about your mother- please do try to not get upset when people do this, they may know not nor understand how you are feeling right now. Remus sent me an apology via one of the school's owls. He also told me you are in Gryffindor- and I am so very, very proud of you. I never got into Gryffindor myself- a Badger 'till the end- but you were always made of stronger stuff.___

_Petal, I must also confess that just to check up on you is not my main reason for writing.___

_The Healers at St Mungo's have discovered how your Mum died. She was attacked and killed. By whom, we do not know yet. The Minister has sent Aurors to Paris to converse with the European Board of Criminal Capture, to decide where to start searching.___

_Do reply back- I am worried about how you are._

_I love you very much, Brienne.___

_  
__Dad, ___

_xxxx_

Fred looked up from the letter, his eyes wide and his breath lost. _Why hasn't she told us her Mum's just died? _He thought to himself. He folded up the letter carefully and put it in his pocket. And then, he then followed his brother and Brienne up to the Owlery.

_  
__Dad, ___

_What do you mean she was attacked? Do you think it was the Killing Curse? It must have been, mustn't it? ___

_Why would anyone attack her? Why would they kill my Mother?_

Brienne stopped writing. She could only think of questions. After all, so many of them were flying through her head, and had been for three terrible months. She was sitting beside a handsome tawny owl that was waiting for her to finish writing her letter.

Brienne thought about her father's letter; the killing curse. It was, after all, the one and only possible solution. The Muggle police hadn't been able to come up with a reason for Zéphyrine Auvray-Christie's sudden and unexpected death, no more could the French Aurors who escorted Brienne to England. Brienne felt an odd kind of relief to finally know the cause of her death, but now the most important and obvious questions were "Who?" and "Why?"

Unable to write any more, Brienne set down her parchment and quill and buried her head in her thighs, wrapping her arms around her knees, sobbing. Her mother had been- oh. She couldn't think the word. Why on Earth would anybody, _anybody_, want to- no, no, no...

Minutes later, she looked up, wiping her tears, only to see George entering the Owlery, looking for her.

"Brienne?"  
"George."

He looked over, and then approached, pinching his nose at the smell of the owls.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly croaked. Brienne waited, and then shook her head.  
"That letter was from my father. He said they've discovered how my mother died."  
"Your mother died?" George replied immediately, "You didn't tell us that."  
"I didn't want to talk about it." Brienne admitted sadly, sighing.

George cautiously approached her, sitting gently next to her "What did the letter say?" he asked, "If you don't mind me asking."

Brienne looked at him, pursing her lips.

"The K-killing Curse. Someone...someone..." and she broke down, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. George hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, holding his breath so he didn't smell the owls. Brienne turned and cried on George's warm shoulder, wrapping her arms cautiously around him. George awkwardly patted her on the back and pulled away as Fred rushed in, the letter in hand. He stared at the two of them briefly before clearing his throat,

"Bree, why didn't you tell us?"

But his words were lost. As George pulled away from the hug, Brienne had stopped crying. She sniffed, staring at George curiously. She tilted her head slightly to the side, and stared into George's eyes. A funny feeling tugged in her chest.

"What...?" Brienne turned to Fred, and George narrowed his eyes, blushed ever so slightly and then looked away, standing to join his brother.

"My parents were divorced only months after I was born."

It was night, and Brienne, Fred and George were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room. Most of the other students had gone to bed; the few left had begun to snooze with their heads on their school books whilst doing their homework. Brienne was sitting on the lush red carpet in front of the flickering fire, one of the only sources of light and warmth in the room. The Twins were both sitting in armchairs in front of her, George leaning on his knees and Fred leaning back, the chair seeming to swallow him.

After leaving the Owlery, Fred and George had treated Brienne delicately, as if she were a bomb that threatened to explode. They had the rest of the day to get through, and the Twins had sat Brienne down as soon as they had all finished dinner. They waited- doing their own homework and talking quietly- until everyone else was asleep before Brienne began to explain.

"They didn't love each other anymore; I think my Dad only stayed because my Mother was going to have me. She thought that I would bring them together again...but I think I only bought more stress. After they divorced, Mama took me to France to live with her. She had won me in the custody agreement, but I came to London every Christmas to see my Father. I started at Beauxbatons and everybody was happy.

"But then I got the call. I was in the middle of an end-of-year test when an examiner called me out."

Brienne sniffed and gulped before carrying on. Fred and George glanced at each other, concern on their faces.

"They said she had been found at our home. Apparently she was all set to leave, travelling coat on and everything."

"Where was she going?" George asked.

Brienne looked at him and shrugged, before rasping, her voice desperately sad, "I don't know. Nobody does. Well...I suppose one person does. All I know is that she would never had gone anywhere without me or telling me unless she was in some serious trouble." Brienne gave a look to the Twins as if in attempt to show them exactly how much trouble, "I had to move here with my Dad as soon as the school year was out. He enrolled me here as soon as possible, and here I am."

Fred and George looked at each other again, their faces flickering in and out of sight from the firelight, and then at Brienne.

"I'm sorry," Fred said, "I'm really sorry that we had to bring this up, but I think we both needed to know about this," he glanced at George, who nodded back, "I mean, you could have never told us this, and completely held it all in, and exploded at any moment!"

Brienne looked at Fred, trying to smile back and gulping again. "I understand. For all you know I could have just been depressed for no reason. You're right; I should have told you earlier. Am I forgiven?"

George smiled, "Course you are. You just need to trust us a bit more."

"I'm game for that," her smile faltered slightly, "I'll be fine. Eventually." She got up, stretching and approaching the stairs, "Goodnight."

"Nighty-night." the Twins said together, watching her go. Fred sighed, turning back again in his seat and getting up himself.

"I'm going to the sack, George." he said, "Are you coming?" he looked at his brother, only to see him still watching the space where Brienne had disappeared upstairs.

"Yeah." George replied, getting up and going up the left staircase whilst Fred frowned at him, wanting to know what was going through his mind.

Monday morning was when Fred, George and Brienne all had Defence against the Dark Arts again. They had entered the classroom and had unpacked their things when Lupin entered. He looked exactly as he did during their last lesson, windswept and tired. He nodded at Brienne as he began the lesson.

"Today I shall begin to teach you the Patronus Charm. Yes, I know this is a charm but, as Dementors are guarding the school this year until Sirius Black has been found, the Headmaster has informed me to teach you this spell so you can defend yourselves if need be. This charm is the only way to truly ward off the Dementors.

"Now, all stand in a large space on your own. We need total silence for this."

The students did what they were told, all getting into their own space. Brienne lifted her wand and waited for further instruction.

"Now, close your eyes." Lupin said soothingly, "Think of your happiest memory. Let it fill you up, do not allow yourself to think of anything else, no sadness or anger. "

Brienne closed her eyes and tried to let her happiest memories float to the surface. Immediately several images passed through her mind: Being small in the family garden in Paris, her mother laughing and cuddling her, playing with a fake wand that lit up at her touch. All of these were very happy memories, but Brienne plumped for ones of her mother. She imagined her beautiful, smiling face grinning at her. She took a deep breath, keeping the image in her mind.

"Now, call the incantation: _Expecto Patronum_."

"_Expecto Patronum_." Brienne muttered, her mind still on her mother. Her eyes open now, she saw a faint flicker of silver light steam from her wand and disappear. She smiled, knowing then what it took to produce a fully-fledged Patronus.

- - -


	5. Quidditch Practise

The Joker and Her

Chapter 5

Quidditch Practise

'_How I've found myself in freezing cold weather watching people throw a ball about I don't know_.'

Brienne was waiting outside the Changing Hut in the sweeping school grounds. She was pulling a thick coat firmly around her as the chilling breeze blew through her hair, taking the falling leaves with them. Fred and George had pulled her into joining them for the first Quidditch practise for the Gryffindor team of the season, and Brienne had reluctantly agreed, not having then known yet how early she had to get up. Sleep was hard to come by as it was.

Within a few more minutes, Fred, George, and Angelina Johnson- a pretty girl who was another member of the team- emerged from the hut, Angelina laughing at something that Fred had said. George grinned at Brienne as Fred and Angelina trudged ahead to the Quidditch stadium, brooms in hand.

"Tired?" George asked as Brienne yawned, lifting her dainty fingers to cover her wide mouth. George's hazel eyes glittered as Brienne gave a 'what gave you that impression?' face and pulled her coat around herself until it was so tightly wrapped it was a surprise she could move. He smiled and Brienne turned slightly pink and looked away.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Brienne asked, keeping her eyes on the damp ground as she and George trudged up to the Quidditch field, "Could you not practise when it's a little bit _warmer_?"

"Morning sun gives energy and all that," George replied, nodding at Oliver- the captain of the team- as he strode past, "or it's something to do with crushing the Slytherin team."

Brienne rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes. She used French when she didn't want the others to know what she was saying, and found it an excellent way to swear at or badmouth something without getting in trouble. George laughed quietly to himself- for he had noticed this habit though didn't understand it- and joined the rest of the team at the gates for the field. Brienne walked next to a small group of fellow onlookers as Oliver unlocked the gates.

Two weeks later, there had been many, many Quidditch practises; most of which Brienne had attended out of need for distraction. The team had a fresh new spirit which was fuelled because Oliver Wood was in his final year at Hogwarts, and he had not yet won the Quidditch House Cup whilst he was captain.

Brienne didn't mind. It was something to look forward to for her friends and it kept their sparky energy to an appropriate level, something which she appreciated.

It was a cold October evening and Brienne, Fred, George and some of the other teammates were sitting around a table in the common room, discussing- what else? - Quidditch. Angelina Johnson, the Chaser who was sitting two away from Brienne asked her what team she supported.

"I have no idea," Brienne replied, "I can't tell broom nor breeze which team is which. Who do you support?"

"The Holyhead Harpies!" exclaimed Angelina, which was met with agreements from the other Chasers, Alicia and Katie. Some of them laughed, before moving onto another subject.

There was a sudden, loud yowl that sounded as if it came from a cat and George was suddenly out of his seat and on the floor, his arms outstretched as the small tiger-like cat he had missed scampered out of sight. Some other students jumped out of their seats as the cat snarled; one of these students knocked a bottle of multi-coloured ink onto George's head, which immediately began to leak. Brienne burst out laughing for the first time in months, rolling around in her seat and wiping tears from her eyes, as some of the others were doing.

George looked up at Brienne, surprised. Brienne stopped laughing, noticing the look on George's face and suddenly realising what she had done. George was smirking, the ink dripping down his face and making him resemble something of a clown. She sat back down as Fred- who was also smiling- caught her eye. She stared back at him, before George got back into his seat and they both grinned widely at her, as Alicia tried to siphon some of the ink off of his face with her wand.

However, the smiles soon died down and the conversation started up again, this time turning to brands of broomsticks and whether they could afford an upgrade. Brienne kept out of the talks, mainly because she didn't know anything about the subject, but the rest because she was pleased that she had finally let go and enjoyed herself, something that hadn't happened for what felt like a long, long time.

Later on that night, when the common room was emptying and the lights had dimmed, Brienne, the twins and the Chasers from the team were still sitting around the table. Brienne had bonded with Angelina in particular and they were all giggling at the twins, who were both sporting huge noses after an attempt at a duel, right there in the common room.

"You idiots!" Alicia yelled, laughing,  
"What were you thinking of?" said Katie, shaking her head shamefully,

Fred and George sat there, glaring at them with the abnormally large noses obscuring their faces.

"Right then," George said, looking at each of them in turn and finally looking at his brother, "what do you reckon, Gred?"  
"I reckon, Forge," Fred replied, "that we go and have a kip."  
"Excellent notion, old chap."

And without another word, the twins stood up and disappeared up their staircase, leaving the girls wondering if they had upset them. The Chasers turned to Brienne, who was sitting in the middle of them.

"So." Angelina began, "You and George. All I can ask is, when did it happen?"

"What?" Brienne asked, completely at a loss to what she was asking her.

Alicia piped up, "It's obvious! There's been sparks flying all night. Tell us what's going on!"

"What do you mean, sparks?" said Brienne truthfully, "There's nothing going on!"

"A little hand touch here, knee contact there," Katie joined in, "he's got the hots for you, it's almost painful, it's _so_ obvious."

Brienne sat back, shaking her head. She was unaware of any such thing; the concept seemed simply too bizarre. The Chasers descended into a fit of giggles and shook their heads at each other disapprovingly, whilst Brienne looked at them as if they were extremely perplexing.

Suddenly, a gush of water landed on them out of nowhere. The Chasers and Brienne reared back, yelling out in shock and outrage. Fred and George emerged from the boys' staircase, laughing, wands in hand. Brienne stood, her sopping hair clinging to her face.

"What are you playing at?!" Katie said her mascara running. Alicia and Katie were furious, but Angelina and Brienne immediately grinned, deciding that they deserved it. They got their own respective wands out and they began a water fight.

"_Aguamenti!_" Fred, George, Angelina and Brienne all cast at the same time, and jets of water blasted out from all four wands. Katie and Alicia went to bed which went mostly unnoticed. Brienne was shooting water at Fred, whilst Angelina shot some into Brienne's face and George jumped on Angelina from behind, getting a mouthful of water for her trouble.

They fought for a long while, but when both George and Fred were on the floor, defeated, Brienne and Angelina were announced the winners.

All four went to bed, drying off and talking to each other over the night in their own respective dormitories through the curtains in their four-poster beds. When Angelina fell asleep, Brienne lay awake. The dark pink curtains of her bed outlined her gaze. Before long, they were swimming before her, and Brienne bit down on her pillow to avoid waking her friend with her sobs.


	6. Paisley Hamilton

The Joker and Her

Chapter 6

Paisley Hamilton

The Quidditch team had trained every other day, and that included Angelina, whose friendship Brienne had begun to appreciate greatly along with that of the Twins. As the training sessions shifted from morning to evening- when it was warmer in the October breeze- Brienne found herself out of luck for companionship for a lot of the time.

It was mid October, and it was time for Divination.

Divination was one of the classes that Brienne found herself dreading. The deep, dark abyss of the future was one that Brienne felt that she shouldn't know- the eccentric teacher and the choking perfumes of the classroom high in one of the towers also helped in making this subject one which Brienne hated, and she deeply regretted that it was one of the only non-compulsory classes that she could have chosen for her OWLS.

It was late morning, and Divination was the last class before lunch. Brienne- very tired from a restless night- yawned as she stumbled into the thickly scented classroom, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. The large room was nearly full, and the mere sliver of light streaming through the darkly curtained windows made it quite difficult to see.

The Twins - late, as they nearly always were - had disappeared as soon as they had left Transfiguration ten minutes before, and Brienne, who was used to this, had proceeded to the next lesson.

She set her bag down on their usual table when someone sitting alone caught her eye. The girl was somewhat short, had long dark brown hair and bright green eyes. Her large forehead and thin lips made her look anxious, but to the perceptive seemed merely bored. She had a yellow crest on her robes. The girl looked up curiously as Brienne snapped her gaze away.

Brienne paused before sitting down. Although she was in somewhat higher spirits recently she wasn't about to bear her soul to a complete stranger. The girl, however, had another idea. She stood and approached Brienne, gracefully moving her skinny body over to her desk.

"Um, hullo?" said the girl in a Scottish accent.

Brienne's eyes shot back up at her. "Hello," she replied, "Can I, um...help you?"

"Oh. I was wondering, because you're sitting alone, if you would want some company? My friend's ill, so I'm sitting alone too."

Brienne let her eyes drift to the floor. "Sure."

The girl set her own bag down and took the place next to her. There was some short silence before Brienne spoke.  
"Um, I'm Brienne Christie. I'm new."  
"Paisley Hamilton."

Paisley shone her a large smile before her eyes focused on Professor Trelawney, whom had suddenly appeared from the shadows. The Professor was tall and thin but hunched over, wearing long brownish cloaks and her light brown and grey hair was sticking out in all directions; the glasses which magnified her eyes completed her whimsical look. At her entrance, the hum of the student's conversations quietened.

"Uh...good morning, pupils," the Professor began with her slightly soft voice, "Today we shall-"

But she was interrupted as Fred and George finally stumbled into the room, their lips pursed in restrained laughter. Trelawney slowly turned to them as they hitched their bags onto their shoulders and looked at each other mischievously.

"Sorry we're late, Professor." George said, breathing deeply with the effort of keeping quiet. Fred had his hand on one of George's shoulders and the other on his mouth, keeping the laughter in.

Brienne glared at them, narrowing her eyes: What were they up to now_?_ Knowing full well what she was thinking, they returned the look, before smiling and settling at Paisley's now empty desk.

- - -

The class duration seemed longer than was necessary. Trelawney had given several long-winded lectures on tarot card reading- in between having visions of the dangerous futures and violent deaths of the students in the room - and Brienne was nearly comfortable enough to sleep; and she was pretty sure that Paisley felt the same way, from the way that she was slumped over the table, staring at Trelawney with glazed eyes.

"The Major Arcana is a powerful and effective way of predicting the future. However, stringy and fragile as it is, the future can never be set in stone, so it is mandatory that you select your cards correctly, or you may find yourself disillusioned."

She handed out a deck of cards to each desk, and gave instructions on how to use them. Brienne leant back in her chair and offered the cards to Paisley as the chatter of the students lazily started up again.

"Do you want to go first?" she asked.

Paisley smiled at her and took the cards, shuffling through them in the way that Trelawney had shown, "Let's see what the future has in store for me, eh?" she said, laying the cards out into three piles, "So, why did you move here, Brienne? I thought it was all glamour and gorgeousness in Beauxbatons."

"Err; well, it just wasn't as nice as people think. I wanted to stay with my father, so I moved here."

"First card," Paisley handed her the card at the top of one of the three piles, "This one is supposed to represent the past."

Brienne took the card and read the inscription at the bottom, "The Magician."  
"This lesson constantly surprises me," Paisley smirked.

Brienne grinned as she opened the textbook to read what it meant, "Well, for the past, it says that the Magician means 'releasing your full potential rather than holding back, and that guidance was present in the form of either your own mind or by someone else's'." She looked up at Paisley, who was nodding along, "Is that true?"  
"Yeah. I had a tough time here for my first couple of years."  
"Oh, OK."  
"Second card." She handed Brienne the top card from the second pile.  
"The Fool," she replied, "It means you have 'childlike ability to understand what is going on around you'. It can mean wisdom, too. Does that mean anything to you?"  
"Not really. My parents say I'm quite immature for my age, but that's it. I hate Divination."

"Me too," Brienne empathised, "It's strange, I only like the lessons that other people seem to hate, and they like lessons that I hate."  
"Why, what lessons do you like?" Paisley asked boredly, resting her head on her hand, her eyes wide.

"I like Charms, Potions...and Herbology is good, too."

"You like Potions, _why_?"

Brienne shrugged, "I don't know, I just do. I'm good at it. What do you like?"

"Charms, Trans, a bit of DADA."

Brienne stared at her in disagreement before pointing at the last pile, "Right. Last card."

Paisley handed it to her.

"The Hierophant. It just says 'tradition, maturity, knowledge, power, respect'. It just lists them."

"Wow, that's a good one. Looks like my future is bright."

"Yeah. Right, my turn."

Brienne took her turn shuffling and laying out the cards, concentrating hard on an ideal future as Professor Trelawney stopped at their desk, stared at them both silently and walked on. Brienne saw the Twins out of the corner of her eye, who were just picking out cards from random and looking them up. "OK. First card."

"The Empress," Paisley flicked through the pages of the book until she found it, "Hmmm. It means 'a nurturing person, a mother, or a carer. It could mean comfort, desire or health'."  
Frozen, Brienne stared at the card in Paisley's hand in shock. A _mother_? "No, I demand a recount."

"Why?" Paisley asked, looking at Brienne with concern, "Is it not right?"

"I..." Brienne thought of a wild excuse; she couldn't tell her yet. "It's not right at all. I just want a different card."

"OK, OK, OK. Shuffle them again."

Brienne furiously shuffled the 'past' pile and slammed them down furiously on the table, Paisley slowly picking the top one up again. She was looking at her, concern in her eyes.

"Hermit." Paisley read quietly, "Means either to 'isolate one's self to be solitary or to release yourself from that isolation.' "

"That's better."

"Really? I thought that other one was better." Paisley set the card down and picked up the next, the one to represent the Present, "Oooo, and The Lovers!"

Brienne looked up, Angelina's words from the week before running through her head. She was very aware of the person sitting at Paisley's former desk.

"_There's been sparks flying all night...it's so obvious._"

What were these cards _doing?_

"It says, 'The Lovers symbolises doubt, or giving up a bachelor lifestyle to gain a relationship, or vice versa. It means love, connection, passion and heart'."

Brienne gulped, "And that's good, then?"

"Well, if you're in a relationship now then probably not. But otherwise, yeah. Why?"

Brienne took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair, "Nothing. Last card."

"Justice. It really doesn't say much, but what it does say is 'Balance of justice, justice will be served, a clear vision of responsibility, decisions and intellect'. Mostly things like that."

"Right."

"Any idea what those cards might be about?"

Brienne paused. Suddenly she felt very sick. "No idea."

The bell finally rang, and thinking that the pungent fumes of the classroom had gone to her head, Brienne stumbled down the ladder steps, saying a shaky goodbye to Paisley, and leaning out of the tower balcony, getting as much fresh air as she could. 

What did those cards mean? The Empress...that was just scary. The Hermit, fair enough.

The Lovers. Brienne refused to think about that.

And Justice- Brienne could only think of one person that deserved ultimate justice, and she knew now with every fibre of her being what it meant. The person that had killed her mother. An angry monster stirred in her stomach at the thought. Brienne gripped the stone that kept her from flying.

The giggling that approached could only say that the Twins had joined her. Brienne took one more deep breath before spinning to them, remembering her now stifled curiosity.

"What have you two done?" Brienne growled, looking between the two of them. They exchanged a gleeful look.

Fred leaned in to whisper. "We put loads of Bertie Botts and Blood Sweets in the Slytherin's lunch."

"You _what?_"  
"We-we sneaked into the kitchen and put loads of them into their soup." Fred just couldn't hold it in any more and burst out laughing, holding his sides.

George smiled, "They're going to get a nasty surprise."

Brienne looked between the Twins, before huffing exasperatedly and moved towards the stairs.

"Come on, you two. Do you want to miss their reactions?"

The escalating laughing told her they were following.

_There was fluttering, a sensation of falling, before Brienne found herself sat back in Trelawney's classroom. It was empty of people, other than herself. Looking around, the moonlight being the only thing that lit up the room, Brienne's eyes found the four cards that were lined up in order on the purple velvet tablecloth: - The Empress, The Hermit, The Lovers, and Justice._

___Brienne ran her fingers over the smooth cards, looking at the pictures that coloured them. However, at her touch, the pictures began to change._

___At touching The Empress, the woman in a ballroom gown shifted to depict a realistic painting of another woman. Her heart wrenched painfully and tears filled her eyes as she peered down at the beautiful and smiling face that was frozen on the card._

___"Mum." Brienne reached out to touch the card again, but as quickly as before, the card changed again, back to the woman in the gown._

___The Hermit swirled, revealing Brienne, sat on her own. She was dressed in a long silvery robe and her hair was styled beautifully. Brienne had a book in her hands and was looking sadly around her. Brienne pursed her lips at the memory, and moved onto the next card._

___The Lovers were no longer Adam and Eve. They swirled to show Brienne, smiling and looking into the eyes of a red-head, who was looking at her with as much admiration as he was receiving. Brienne looked at this card for a long time, trying very hard to feel a reaction from the image._

___Justice remained black. No matter how much Brienne ran her fingers over the shiny card, Justice never changed. She supposed she was still in the dark about that card._

She never knew when the dream ended, but soon she found herself snug in the silk covers, warm and still.


	7. Part 1, Draught of Peace

The Joker and Her 

Chapter 7

Draught of Peace

The end of October at Hogwarts marked the first of real changes for Brienne.

Firstly, there were the superficial changes. The most obvious of these changes were in the interior of the castle; the ceiling in the Great Hall had changed from the bright and jolly colours of summer into the darker and gloomier tones of autumn.

The stones from which the castle was built felt colder, as the chill from the fast-approaching winter swirled around the grounds. The trees had lost their leaves; the lake had turned a stormy grey from the colour of the sky. The Forbidden Forest was derelict, a spiky decoration to the most beautiful of places.

It was Halloween morning, and Brienne was in Potions class.

Wednesday was Brienne's favourite day in her timetable, mainly because she had Potions and Charms- her favourite lessons- one after the other. She also favoured this day because the irritating stretched-out hour of Divination was absent.

In that Potions lesson that morning, they were instructed to create a vial of the Draught of Peace. Professor Snape, who looked just as menacing and suspicious as always, glided swiftly around the front of the classroom, inspecting cauldrons and ingredients whilst explaining the potion.

"The long sought-after Draught of Peace is used to calm the anxious mind, and to soothe agitated thoughts," he drawled grimly, "you have the ingredients, and the instructions. I want a perfect vial of the Draught by the end of the hour, from _all_ of you." he added, giving a cursory glare towards the Weasley twins, who were both still getting their equipment out of their bags. They both glared back, before Snape turned away to sit at his desk.

"Begin." the Professor finished.

Brienne was sitting two tables away from the Twins, but she could practically taste the beam of hatred that flowed from their table to Snape's desk. However, there were reasons she loved this lesson, and one of them was that she didn't have to hear Fred and George complain about their less-than-friendly teacher for the entire hour. As the classroom descended into a quiet hum, Brienne opened her textbook to the right page, lit the fire on her black cauldron, and waited as the clinking of jars and the quick but quiet tapping of knives slicing into ingredients became a peaceful orchestra that was the only sound in the room.

However, this potion would be a problematic one for Brienne.

It started out easy enough: "'Mix_ two spoonfuls of powdered moonstone with the drops of hellebore syrup before adding to the cauldron._' "

Brienne did so, taking extra care not to add too much or not enough of the glittering moonstone or the stinky black syrup.

"'_Stir__ for seven minutes, turning counter-clockwise. Leave to simmer for a further minute, and then add the thinly chopped Porcupine Spike. Stir again until the potion changes colour, and then add two more drops of hellebore syrup._' "

Again, Brienne completed the instructions, remembering to stir for the correct duration of time and to add the right amounts of ingredients. Half of the hour had passed, and Brienne was nearly done.

From the other side of the room, Brienne could hear the Twins bickering over whether they had stirred for eight minutes or seven, Fred fiercely arguing that he had stirred for the right amount of time. She looked over to their table, where bright yellow smoke was issuing from their cauldron.

"I'm _not_ about to be talked to like I'm a bloody rat's dropping again," he hissed angrily, the acid in his voice directed at their teacher, rather than his brother.

"Look, mate. Let's make the potion right, then he won't have a reason to," George replied, seeming agitated, his red hair sticking up from where he'd been raking his fingers through it.

George met Brienne's eye from across the room. Brienne felt the blood rush to her cheeks as the twin winked and returned to work. Brienne huffed and turned back to her potion.

The hour was up.

The twenty students stood stiffly behind their desks whilst the darkly-cloaked Professor examined each vial of the Peace Draught that had been produced. Snape sighed exasperatedly at the student standing behind a few tables along.

"Cooper...may I remind you that hellebore syrup is indeed a poisonous substance, and not something with which you can add liberally to something that a person will drink...this concoction that you have made is clearly unacceptable. Fail." The boy, John Cooper, was bright red as Snape ridiculed his thick black concoction. Snape then went on to disdainfully congratulate a Slytherin on a job well done, and award them ten house points.

Both Fred and George's attempts had been unsuccessful. Fred had indeed stirred for eight minutes rather than seven, and now his draught was unusable as it was too thin. George's was much worse; he hadn't heated his cauldron properly, and so the ingredients were soggy and lumpy objects floating on the surface.

However, Brienne was quietly positive that she had created a perfect Draught of Peace. The light blue liquid swirled lightly at the touch of Snape's finger, seeming lighter than a liquid; more of a gas-like substance. Snape lifted his finger from the vial, sniffing it before siphoning it off with his wand. He sighed again, looking down his long nose at Brienne.

"Christie, although you do seem to have miraculously stirred the potion correctly, and added the poison and the powder of moonstone...the instructions indicated the spike's of a _porcupine_, _not_ the spines of a puffer fish. Therefore, you have actually made a Swelling Solution, as is obvious by the colour, which is supposed to be navy blue, and not pale blue." Snape's voice dripped with a tired distain, as it did practically every time Brienne had heard him speak. He lifted the finger with which he had tested the potion, which was now twice the size and was bright red.

"Pathetic. Can _none_ of you idiotic children follow instructions correctly?"

Snape turned away and swept to his desk, where he found a tiny bottle of a clear liquid and dabbed some of it on his now very large forefinger. Brienne stood furiously behind her desk, staring at her potion. The teacher returned, standing at the front of the room.

"Homework; research and bring the ingredients for the Strengthening Solution, which you will be making next lesson. Two rolls of parchment, for Monday. You are dismissed."

The hum returned as the students packed up their things and left the classroom, eager to leave and be in the Great Hall for lunch. When Brienne had finished clearing up, she turned to find the Twins standing behind her, who looked just as annoyed as she felt.

"Bloody git," Fred complained, "He's just got a grudge because I've been getting better lately. Come on, let's go to lunch."

Fred left the room, whilst George shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat, "Um, Brienne." he said as they began to follow Fred out of the classroom.

"Yeah?" Brienne replied briefly; she hated it when she was ridiculed in front of her friends, especially in something she enjoyed.

"Are you gonna sit by us at dinner? It's Halloween dinner, it's brilliant, you can't miss it."

"I was actually gonna sit next to Angelina."

"Oh." George said, obviously trying to retain the jokey banter in his voice, and failing miserably, "Well, I'll talk to her. You know she won't miss sitting next to Fred."

"I suppose," Brienne sighed, her thoughts elsewhere.

They were at the Entrance Hall now, and they could see Fred entering the Great Hall in front of them, rubbing his hands together at the smell of the food.

"What's the matter?" George asked, looking concerned at the frown on Brienne's face.  
"Nothing. I'm just irritated at Snape, you know."  
"Yeah. Come on, I'm starving."

Brienne let George go on, staring at his retreating green jumper before shaking her head and following.

'_I could really use a Draught of Peace now,_' she thought.


	8. Part 2, Hallowe'en

The Joker and Her

Chapter 8**  
**  
Hallowe'en

The rest of the day went smoothly for Brienne. The Potions fiasco was soon forgotten- for the most part, at least. After lunch, Brienne had gone to Transfiguration, where she'd spent the lesson trying to Vanish snails. The rest of the day was normal, as normal as Brienne's life was at the moment.

As George had reminded Brienne, that day was Hallows Eve; Hallowe'en. When Brienne had had a mother- and the promise of many Hallowe'en themed desserts and snacks sent to her in Beauxbatons - this had been one of Brienne's favourite times of year. She had looked forward to these treats; whether to eat in the middle of the night or to eat whilst watching the traditional staff-performed light show out in the grounds.

She wasn't sure how she would be able to cope with the knowledge that no special packages would be arriving in the post, no midnight snacks, and no light shows. Not this year, and not ever again. A consequence that led straight to the thing that Brienne had been trying to avoid- her mother.

Still, Brienne was curious as to how the traditions at Hogwarts would differ from what she was used to. George had called Hallowe'en dinner "brilliant,"- she deeply hoped so.

"Er, Brienne?"  
"Sorry, what was that? I was just thinking."  
"It's time for dinner, are you coming?"  
"Oh, yeah."

Angelina and Brienne were sitting in the Common Room, finishing up on the load of Herbology homework they had received the day before. Brienne had fallen into deep thought and had only just realised that the sun was sinking over the tops of the trees of the Forbidden Forest, which she had been staring pensively at through the window for the last two hours or so.

Angelina- her raven hair up in a ponytail that day- had stood and was leaning over the table. The Common Room was almost empty; nearly everyone had left for the banquet. Brienne stood to join Angelina, who was wearing a wide cloak of deep black. It made her look both graceful and very beautiful. Brienne had not nearly gone to so much effort, the best she could do was leave her hair loose, which didn't make her look either graceful or beautiful.

Leaving their bags in the dormitory, they made their way down to the Great Hall. The girls could hear the chatter from four floors above. Angelina was leading - she seemed so drawn to the Hall it almost worried Brienne. It looked as if this feast was better than people had described.

Entering the Hall, the girls could smell cooking pumpkins, wood polish and smoke. The bustling students issued an excited hum of conversation, full of anticipation. They could clearly see Fred and George, who had probably come up with the idea of dressing up- they were both wearing big black cloaks like Angelina was, although along with fake vampiresque fangs and with white paint slathered on their faces.

The breath caught in Brienne's throat as she took in the difference in the Hall from that morning. Hundreds of pumpkins were hanging in the air, magically suspended. Candles were in the centre of them, which scented the entire Hall with a pungent, fruity smell; the lights of the Hall had dimmed so the faces carved in the pumpkins were shadowed on the walls.

They hurriedly took their seats opposite Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were rubbing their hands together in their impatience for the dinner; it was only then that Brienne noticed how hungry she was.

"Alright, girls? Having fun?" Fred greeted, flashing a smile to the unsuspecting Angelina, who then giggled and leant on Brienne as if for support. George rolled his eyes at Brienne, who smiled back, before he returned to his conversation with Lee. Fred had raised his eyebrows,  
"Hungry, girls?"

Brienne nodded and rubbed her stomach, which rumbled as if in agreement. Angelina simply grinned. A few minutes later, Professor Dumbledore stood and wished the students a 'Happy Hallowe'en,' before waving his arms majestically in welcoming the feast.

A couple of hours later, the five of them began to venture back to the Common Room; their stomachs so full they all had to waddle as to not upset themselves.

"Well, what did you think of that, Bree?" Angelina asked, patting her stomach soothingly.  
"That was..." Brienne attempted a reply, but couldn't manage it. She was just so gorged that a coherent response was simply impossible. George mumbled in agreement. Angelina laughed. "Yes, it _was_ nice, wasn't it?" she trailed off, hanging on Fred's arm absentmindedly.

Brienne smiled at the sight of them. She had indeed enjoyed their dinner; the roast lamb with mint sauce and potatoes, along with the rich gravy, with the roasted pumpkin and clotted cream for afters. Her stomach was appeased, and Brienne felt like she would sleep well that night, in her soft, warm bed.

They were all pulled out of their daydreams when they heard Lee speak,  
"What's going on?"

They had reached the seventh floor, where at least a hundred students were clogging up the corridor which lead to the Common Room. Angelina, who was the tallest, craned over the heads of the confused pupils to see what was happening, before shrinking back onto her heels, nursing her bloated stomach. Brienne and George looked at each other, and exchanged puzzled looks.

"The Fat Lady's closed. I don't think they can open the portrait."  
"Why?" Lee asked.  
"I don't know! I think-" Angelina gasped at us, "the Fat Lady's _gone_!"  
"Let's go and get a better look."

George began to step through the crowd, his brother and Lee following. Angelina stayed with Brienne, who huffed in impatience; she was looking forward to being in her bed, now it seemed there would be a delay. There was an air of suppressed panic, the news was now quickly spreading about the absence of the Fat Lady, and the many Gryffindors- along with the few Ravenclaws that were passing- seemed concerned.

Suddenly, there was a hush amongst the students as the Headmaster, looking regal in sweeping purple robes, marched down the corridor towards the closed portrait in which the Fat Lady was absent. On closer inspection, Brienne realised why there was a sudden solemn atmosphere- the portrait was hanging apart, slashed to pieces by an unknown vandal.

The students parted for the Professor to approach, and then closed together again after he had passed. Angelina and Brienne were still at the back, and didn't know where the Twins were.

"What do you thinks' happening?" Angelina mused as Brienne attempted to peer over shoulders and heads.  
"I don't know- let's listen." Brienne responded.

There was such a hush over the corridor- students and portraits holding their tongues in anticipation- that they could hear the exchange between Professor Dumbledore and the passing Peeves, and before long the former had ordered the confused and worried students to return to the Great Hall.

Having been at the back of the crowd, Angelina and Brienne were pushed forward with the haste of the students; terrified and whispering to each other, anxious to get back to the Great Hall.

When they arrived there, Brienne and Angelina picked up two squishy sleeping bags and were getting settled in the Great Hall. The floating pumpkins were gone, as was the delicious smell that came with them. Many students were still pouring in from the Entrance Hall and the two girls were sitting, waiting for the Twins to appear, the confused and panicked change of atmosphere extremely jarring. Brienne had taken off her shoes and robes, stripping down to a vest and shorts, and stuffed herself into her own purple sleeping bag before anyone could get an unwelcome glimpse. Angelina was brushing her hair out with her fingers, and had stood, her lilac bag still rolled up at her feet.

"Where do you think the boys are?" she said, concern in her eyes and in her voice. Brienne rolled her eyes.  
"Don't worry, Angie, they're fine," she yawned deeply, "It's not like they were attacked by that killer, Sirius, whatever his name is."  
"Sirius Black."  
"Him. Come on, do you really think Peeves was being truthful?"  
Angelina looked over again, blinking, "You don't think he's actually here?"  
"Of course not." Brienne tried to keep the worry out of her own voice. She didn't think she could bear anything else happening to people she cared about.

It was then that the Twins _finally_ became visible to the girls, two indigo rolled-up bags under their arms. They spotted each other, and the girls waved them over.

"Cor, that bloody Peeves!" Fred exclaimed, rolling out his bag before getting in it, "I hate sleeping on the floor."  
"Because you've done that _so_ many times," George replied, yawning and setting himself up quietly, "Cold, Brienne?" he added, glancing at her apparent lack of cover-up.  
"No, I'm toasty warm, thank you," Brienne muttered quietly.

Angelina, relieved that the boys were safe, got into her bag as prefects weaved through the students on the floor towards the several small groups who were still chattering and informed them that the lights would be soon turning off.

"G'night," she said to the three others.  
"Night," Fred mumbled.  
"Nighty night," George said, yawning again.  
"Goodnight," Brienne replied, hitching her bag up to her shoulders and staring up at the enchanted ceiling, which was a radiant navy blue and twinkled with silver stars.

_Brienne stood before the windows in the Divination Tower, her arm holding up the thick curtains. She looked down at the grounds, the cold wind taking the leaves with them, skittering along the overgrown grass.___

_She sighed, a great heaving sigh, before turning back towards that table.___

_The four cards were still laying there. Hermit, Empress, Lovers, Justice.___

_Loneliness. Hermit._  
_Grief. Empress._  
_Confusion. Lover._  
_Vengeance. Justice._

_Tears swelled and spilt, and she threw the table over, the cards shimmering as they fell from sight._


	9. The Storm

Thank you Carnal Spiral at TDA for the lovely banner!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, except for Brienne and Paisley.

**The Joker and Her, Chapter 9**

The Storm

Over the days that passed, Brienne's sleeping problems did not desist. Early in the morning the night that they slept in the Great Hall Brienne had awoken, shaking and disturbed, and did not sleep for the remainder of the night. That one dream had been much worse than the others, and Brienne grew more irritable and distressed as the dreams got worse. However, there were many distractions to sidetrack her from the consistent problems in her sleep, and of course the crushing grief that was beginning to feel permanent.

There was the fact that the Gryffindor Quidditch team were still practising as often as they could, which meant that Brienne had plenty of time to sit in the Common Room by herself, and catch up on the alarming amount of homework that the fifth years were receiving; they had so much that before long Brienne would have almost preferred sitting in the stands and watching the twins and Angelina fly about in the rain. Almost.

Another distraction was that Professor Snape had usurped the position of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, and therefore his presence in Fred and George's favourite lesson has sparked outrage, hatred, and a growing urge to cause some trouble.

"That slimy old git," Fred had declared as they were leaving their first DADA lesson since the night in the Great Hall, "he gave us eight feet to write about the bloody war with the Mongolian Vampires in the fifteen-hundreds! It's for next lesson, which is two days from now. Surely there isn't that much to say about how to defeat a vampire, everyone knows just to chop off its head with a wooden sword. Simple!"

"Calm down Fred," Brienne said calmly, rubbing her throbbing left temple, "or at least quieten down. I'll help you with the homework."

Fred looked at her, frowning, "Well, obviously!" he remarks before they enter their next lesson in the Charms classroom. George was being quiet whilst walking alongside them. He yawned broadly as they three sat down, and rested his head in his arms,  
"Quidditch practise," Fred explained, whispering to Brienne, "The bludger was brutal with him last night, almost knocked him off his broom."  
"Thank Merlin we're off tonight," George commented briefly before staring at Flitwick indifferently. Brienne wanted to tell them if anyone was tired of Quidditch, it was her. Thankfully, Fred cut through the gloom by debating where on Earth Professor Lupin had got to.

-

"Pumpkin seed," Brienne cried imploringly,  
"-come along, you scurvy maid, I demand that you-"  
"The password is pumpkin seed, now _please_ let me in!"

Sir Cadogan, who was the new- and mercifully, temporary- inhabitant of the entrance to the Common Room, had forgotten his position and was now more likely to spark up a chat with a student rather than open the passageway into the Common Room. Brienne had been in the library for almost three hours attempting to get enough information on the Mongolian Vampires. Instead of finding sufficient data to write the eight feet of homework due, she had only managed to write five feet. The twins would not be pleased.

Cadogan was glaring at Brienne, his bow-tie lopsided and his large cheeks red with indignation.

"I do admit, young wench, that the sharp sheen of my new sword is not entirely riveting- although it would be agreeable if you would kindly comment-"  
"Let her in, Cadogan, don't be a weasel." Lee Jordan had stridden up, almost swaggering, and had thrown an arm around Brienne's shoulder. Sir Cadogan turned even redder, if that were possible, and swung open.

Brienne grinned at Lee gratefully, and he winked before climbing through the hole and joining the twins by the fire. Brienne had become used to Lee's regular presence as the twin's comrade in arms. She and Angelina often referred to dreadlocked comedian as 'the third twin.'

The Common Room was humming with the soft chatter of the pupils gathered evenly around the tables, completing homework, chatting or playing games of Exploding Snap or wizard chess; the fire was crackling appealingly and Brienne sighed with barely-there content as she slipped into one of the armchairs beside the fire, where the twins, Lee, and Angelina were discussing homework, joke product ideas and Quidditch strategies simultaneously. Angelina was looking stressed, and she caught Brienne's eye as she took out her unfinished DADA homework.

"Our match has been changed," Angelina explained, "Slytherin can't play because their Seeker's sustained an injury. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."  
"I don't know why you're complaining, Angie," Fred laughed, "Badgers are a piece of cake."  
"Yes, but remember they have Cedric Diggory as Seeker. Oliver says he's half decent."  
Fred looked up sharply from the playing cards he was holding, "Which one's Diggory again?"

Angelina turned slightly pink and tried to sound indifferent,  
"Um, he's, um, that one with the curly hair. Big gray eyes."  
Brienne could tell she was trying to refrain from saying 'handsome.' She felt a flicker of humour as Fred looked like he was growing more put out and Angelina more distressed.

The blonde decided to step in, "Oh, he's that cute one isn't he?" she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. George's head snapped up, with a look of annoyance that matched his brothers.  
Angelina beamed graciously over at Brienne, "Um, yeah. If you like that sort of thing."  
"What sort of thing?" Lee cut in, clearly delighting in her squirming.

Fred's frown deepened.  
"You know, that whole 'pretty boy' lark. Don't you think, Brienne?" she looked pointedly at Brienne, who shrugged.  
Fred visibly relaxed, "Well, we'll demolish those 'Puffs. Easy as pie."

However, he sat back with an expression on his face that showed exactly at whom he would be aiming the bludger that Saturday.

At the end of the evening, when the group had discussed, joked, flirted (Angelina and Fred at the forefront), and cursed the indignity of Severus Snape until they were blue, they all got ready to head to bed. Lee and Fred went ahead, murmuring tiredly as Angelina shook her head in their direction. Brienne knew exactly what was running through her head- she was concerned for Cedric Diggory's safety, and was wishing she hadn't brought him up.

"Night Angie," George grinned as Angelina trod slowly up to the girl's dormitory. Her reply consisted of a very loud and drawn out yawn, which Brienne caught; she was dreading going to bed, but at the same time was so desperate for some decent sleep she felt herself approaching the stairs almost without thinking.

"Goodnight George," she muttered, looking over her shoulder at the redhead. He was standing almost right behind her, his arms crossed.  
He flashed a grin at her as she spoke, "Night, Bree. Hey," he added conversationally, "do you reckon Angie fancies Diggory?"

It came as a rather random question; Brienne could not think why it would bother him either way. And they both knew the answer anyway.

"No way," Brienne denied, "like she said, he's far too pretty."  
"Is that something that girls like?" he asked, nose wrinkled.  
Brienne shrugged again, "Some girls, I suppose. I don't see why any girl would fancy a boy who wears more make-up than them."  
George burst out laughing, perhaps too loudly to be believable.  
"Right. Goodnight."

He bounded up the stairs, and Brienne trod apprehensively to bed, wishing she knew how boy's minds worked.

-

_Brienne paced robotically around the classroom, deep in thought._

The four cards were yet again sat on the table, still, unremarkable looking. Behind the window, snow was swirling with the fierce wind, the whistling noise that accompanied it sounded like a boiling kettle.  
Brienne stopped walking, and sighed. She wanted to open the window, to let the wind pick up the cards and blow them away, so they would be gone. It was too much. She didn't want to take it any longer. The pain was dragging; a dull ache, all consuming. But sharper, more powerful than this, was the terrible loneliness.

Brienne turned to the window, and tugged on it, but it was frozen shut. Furious, she turned back to the table, and beyond it she saw the open door. She longed to leave...but her legs were frozen too.

On the morning of the sixth of November, there was no talking to her friends. Fred, George and Angelina were sitting at the Gryffindor table, drinking pumpkin juice, wolfing down sausages and scrambled egg, their eyes steely, their breathing even and faces calm. Lee was being quiet aswell; he had to preserve his voice for the commentary of the game.

Brienne was looking at each of her friends in turmoil; she had woken up that morning feeling particularly hollow, and was seeking her friend's usual banter to help and put her in good spirits.

"Good morning!" said a voice cheerfully,  
Brienne's heart rose, "Hi, Paisley," she said, "Looking forward to the game?"

Paisley was standing behind Angelina, dressed almost entirely in yellow-and-black stripes. She came over to chat once every few days, and had become Brienne's comrade in the ridiculousness of Divination.

"Aye," she smiled, "Gotta wear me house colours. Have a good game, guys, and no hard feelings, yeah?"

Fred looked up, frowning again as Paisley turned to leave before swivelling back,  
"Oh! And just to let you know, it looks like a dire storm brewing up. Perhaps your Captain should be told."  
She skipped away to sit beside an undeniably handsome, cheerful boy who had the same steely-eyed look as Brienne's friends. Cedric Diggory. Brienne remembered the slight toward him the night before and wondered whether or not Fred would level up to what she expected him to do.

Brienne pulled on her red gloves just as people began to finish up breakfast and leave the Hall to get good seats in the Stadium. Fred, George, Angelina and Lee all stood. Alicia and Katie joined them, and they all trooped to the changing rooms. Lee hung back to walk with Brienne to the Stadium.

It was mid-morning. There was a thick blanket of cloud, too dense to identify where the Sun was in the sky. It was drizzling, the kind of rain that was extremely thin but soaked you through. Brienne could see Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall striding through the grounds with the rest of the faculty; Dumbledore looked regal in sweeping purple robes, his brow furrowed slightly and McGonagall looked equally as apprehensive. The air was heavy with electricity, the grounds smelling of the pine trees of the Forest and of mud. The wind was reaching harsh extremes, and Brienne was secretly glad that it wasn't full out raining yet.

She spoke too soon.

The second that she had sat down next to Paisley in the stands, in one of the few places that Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors sat together, the heavens opened. Big, fat drops of rain lashed down, and they could barely hear each other speak, let along what Lee was bellowing in the commentator's box.

"Aaaand they're coming onto the pitch!" Lee yelled, and faintly Brienne could see streaks of red and yellow moving through the downpour as he called out their names, "WOOD, JOHNSON, BELL, SPINNET, WEASLEY, WEASLEY, AND POTTER!"

The Gryffindors made a distinctive roar, and Brienne could hear the sounds of several real lions that had been bewitched onto flags and banners; she clapped alongside her fellows and Paisley whoop-whoop-whooped as her team's names were called.

They plunged into the game. All they could see were faint blurs of the players whizzing through the rain, and occasionally the crowd cheered if Lee was able to identify a goal, or indeed, retrieve any information of the match that he could see, for the rest of the school could surely not.

"Maybe we should try and magic our way through this," Paisley called into Brienne's ear as a timeout was called, "None of us can see through this rain."  
"We're not allowed to interfere with the match!"  
"We won't. Just our own perception of it."

Paisley looked truly mischievous. Brienne looked on with alarm as Paisley pointed her wand at the pitch, and whispered, "_Impervious_."

And indeed, the rain seemed to clear ever so slightly in their sight, however they knew for a fact it was still raining as they could hear the splatter on the pitch. It was as if they had a tight bubble around them that held off the rain.  
"Ohh, good idea," Brienne said to herself, "_Impervious_."

Their sight improved ever still. Her spell was only as strong as Paisley's, but they both felt more satisfied that they could actually see what was happening.

As the players returned to the pitch, the girls could see that it was very much evenly matched. With the players unable to see, the quality of playing dropped, but something must have happened during the timeout as both teams were playing slightly more confidently. Gryffindor was leading by one goal. Before long Brienne grew slightly bored, and though she was hoping that her team would win, she was mainly thinking about how put out her friends would be if came down with colds, whether they won or not. Paisley shivered beside her,  
"You haven't got another trick up your sleeve, have you?" Brienne sneezed, "Something to warm us?"  
"I've got nothing, mate."

The game wore on, and after Hufflepuff equalised, neither team seemed to have any motivation to continue.

All of a sudden, a more penetrative cold swept through the stadium. The air itself seemed to become darker, heavier, and the breath hitched in Brienne's chest as a single, horrible scream stung through any other noise.

She twisted around in her seat. What seemed like hundreds of shadowy hooded figures were descending upon the stadium, and were issuing a hollow sucking sound as they flew closer and closer...Brienne felt like they were coming for her. Her breath stuck in her throat again, sounded like a sob, as she was wrenched into her memories.

_"Ms. Christie, would you come with me please?" the examiner whispered sadly in French into Brienne's ear. She looked up, startled, her quill laid alongside her finished exam paper._

She and the middle-aged female examiner left the Ballroom and walked through the adjoining hall, her silky pale blue robes swishing as she walked, and entered the lavish staff room, in which the only other occupant was the Headmistress, Madame Maxime, who looked very much like she had received bad news.

Brienne curtseyed, as they were always supposed to do in the immediate presence of the Headmistress.

"Bonjour, Brienne," she said nasally.  
Brienne curtseyed again, "Madame," she breathed. She was curious; she was not known to refer to her students by forename.

They all sat, and the examiner poured tea into three pristine teacups, one of which Madame Maxime drank from completely before speaking.

"My dear, we have some terrible news to give you," she looked truly pained. Brienne's heart began to thump. What could have possibly happened?  
There was a short, electric pause.  
"Darling, I'm afraid our Aurors have made a discovery at your home," she continued. Brienne's panic reached a peak, __

_"It is your Mama. She is dead, Brienne."_

She is dead.

Dead.

She is dead, Brienne.

Dead.

"Brienne?!"

And suddenly Paisley was above her, her breath coming out in puffs. Brienne was on the floor of the stands, her hands on her face, sobbing. She felt so very cold.

"What's happened, Brienne?"  
Brienne could not answer; she was shaking and could barely breathe. Paisley looked panicked,  
"It's alright, the Dementors are gone. Dumbledore got rid of them."

Brienne noticed that the stands were emptying; the game must be over.  
"Come on," Paisley said softly, "let's get you back to your Common Room. Come on."

They went, Brienne trying to control her tears as they trudged through the icy grounds and returned to the Castle.  
"Who won?" she rushed out, her breath shallow as they climbed the staircases,  
"Hufflepuff," Paisley didn't sound particularly conciliatory, "your Seeker fell off his broom, injured."  
Brienne could not find the will to care.

She was still in the staff room, hundreds of miles and a whole world away, being told of the death of her mother.


	10. Part 1, The Hermit

Hi, everyone! Thank you for all of your stupendous reviews, and I hope that this chapter is consistent! I love you guys, so please make me love you more by reviewing! It's the first time I've ever come close to crying whilst writing. Toodles.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, or any of the places or characters except for Brienne Christie and Paisley Hamilton.

**The Joker and Her, Chapter 12**

The Hermit

Part One

Brienne shivered. How could she still be so _cold_?

"...Do you want me to stay with you until they get back?" Paisley asked quietly, hesitation and concern in her green eyes.

Brienne shook her head, "No, that's OK."

"It's just I want to see if my little sister's alright after...you know. She's only a second year-"

"It's fine. Paisley," Brienne attempted a smile, "go and find your sister. I'll be fine."

"Aye," she smiled back, "I'll be off then."

They were standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, Sir Cadogan eying them suspiciously. Brienne waved absent-mindedly as Paisley walked away and rounded the corner. She let a breath out that she hadn't known she was holding.

It was now early evening. The match had gone on for so long that by the time that they had reached the castle, the torches had been lit and the already dim sunlight had been almost completely blocked out by the thick layer of angry clouds. The fire light was flickering orange on the stone walls, and Brienne stared at it for a moment. She'd been doing so _well._ Why did she have to come crashing down so painfully?

"Are you endeavouring on entering any time this evening?" Cadogan enquired, somehow managing to sound rude through his anxious undertone. Brienne barely suppressed her scowl, and nodded. Cadogan frowned, and swung open, forgetting to ask for the password. She scrambled in before he changed his mind.

The Common Room was almost empty, with most of the Gryffindors having gone down to the Great Hall for a mournful supper. Such strong emotions were sparked from such an insignificant pastime. Brienne hadn't been hungry, but as she sunk into the softest, warmest armchair in front of the fire, she certainly felt her stomach rumble irately. She saw something out of the corner of her eye, and found that somebody had left a couple of mince pies on a plate on the window-side table. Brienne silently thanked whoever had left them, and polished them off greedily as she sat by the warm, crackling fire. They had a warming effect that she wasn't sure had anything to do with the fireplace, and she began to feel the unimaginable chill that was induced by the Dementors recede.

Taking advantage of this, Brienne dwelled on what had happened.

She had never, ever, anticipated that the Dementors could have brought a memory- particularly _that_ memory- back so swiftly and painfully. Just thinking about it made Brienne feel unsettled. They had had nowhere near that kind of effect on her on the Hogwarts Express- she had had no flashes of recollection, no fits, no feeling of being frozen in ice- simply a feeling of a frosty breeze coming over her. What had changed? Dementors fed from happiness, she knew. Perhaps that was it. It brought her back to the thought she had dwelled on earlier: that she had been doing so much better than before. Yes- that must be it. The fact that she had collapsed in proximity to the Dementors must have been because she had been feeling a lot happier, more content, than she had for a long time.

Brienne didn't know how she felt about that; she shuddered, and the pain in her chest throbbed. It had never gone away, but was perhaps muted in times, and in other times was sharper, more acute. Sometimes it was a dull, dragging ache, at others an all-consuming angry vibration of pain that took her breath away. Brienne felt a need to comfort it, to reassure herself that she was still grieving. She had forged a...well, not a _bond_ with it, but a link, a tie, the only one in her life that was still connected to her late mother. Everything else had changed so completely.

Brienne sighed, just as she saw the portrait swing open again. Angelina, coated from head to toe in mud, entered. Brienne stared at her in astonishment, her mouth popping open. She had forgotten the horrendous weather conditions that Angelina and the Twins had been playing in. Angelina's face turned towards her, and Brienne thought she saw a scowl form on her face. A swell of hysterical laughter brewed in her stomach but didn't quite reach her throat.

"Don't you dare laugh!" Angelina cried to the room in general, "Filch will have my head for this!"

She stomped to the staircase which led to the girl's dormitory, and marched up. Brienne knew she had her heart set on a shower, and waited until Angelina rejoined her almost fifteen minutes later. Her coffee coloured skin was now clean and gleaming, with a towel wrapped around her raven hair. There was no trace of mud to be seen.

"That game was _horrific_, Bree," she muttered, stretching out on the armchair next to Brienne's, "I'm knackered with a capital K."

"I bet you are. Where are the Twins?"

"Oh, they're still in the Hospital Wing; Harry's broom flew into the Whomping Willow after he fell off of it. He's gutted, and so am I- looks like our best player will be flying on a Cleansweep for the rest of the Cup."

Brienne tried to muster some interest- even if it were about the injured Boy Who Lived- but failed. She could feel a very different feeling to the laughter stewing in her stomach, and she was trying to suppress it. It didn't work. A loud sob broke through.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's the matter?" Angelina flapped, getting up to sit on the arm of Brienne's chair. She turned to the rest of the room, "Scram!" And the few younger pupils who were remaining skittered either to their dormitories or out of the Common Room.

"I-I..." Brienne didn't know how to begin; she'd never told Angelina about her mother. She had explained her sudden move to Hogwarts as a result of alienation in France. How to reveal a secret kept for months? "I don't know how to tell you this."

"What?" she replied gently.

Brienne felt Angie's soft hand on her shoulder, "Um. Well, there's something I haven't told you. The Twins know, but...the Dementors, they, they brought it all back."

Angelina didn't reply, but squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

Brienne continued, her breathing stilted, her head in her hands, "Well. The reason I moved here was n-not because I was b-bullied. I was p-pulled out of an End of Years ex-am...my M-M-Mum..."

"Shh, it's OK." Angelina breathed.

Brienne took a few deep breaths before she continued, "My Mummer was...killed." She'd never said the word before. Had never even thought it. She heard Angelina take a surprised breath in, and the speed at which she was rubbing her shoulder increased. It was a minute before she spoke, as Brienne's breathing slowed.

"Why didn't you..._tell me_? I mean jeez, don't you trust me Bree?"

"That's not it! I just didn't want anybody else to _pity_ me."

"The Twins pity you?"

"They did, when I told them. I'm quite sure they did. I don't know now- I think they're just trying to help me get back to normal. They don't like emotions that aren't happy."

"They do, don't they?" Angie agreed ruefully, "Do you want to talk about it now?"

She shrugged, "I dunno. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry; I'm just glad you told me...Do you need to cry?"

Brienne sniffed, but then shook her head, "I cry far too much for my own good these days. I'm really sorry Ange; you must have thought I was naturally miserable. I should have told you."

She didn't reply, and slowly she returned to her own seat. She sighed.

"Well-" she stopped. Fred and George, along with most of the rest of the Quidditch Team, had just entered the Common Room, and they brought an ambiance of laughter with them. They, too, were covered in mud, but didn't seem to care as much as Angelina had; they splattered and squelched and finally settled near the two girls, seeming to think it deeply hilarious that they were so filthy.

Brienne discreetly patted Angelina's hand as the Twins began to discuss the game. A few minutes later, Angelina patted back.

That night, Brienne's sleep was dreamless.

On the Monday morning after the Quidditch match, they were sitting in the Great Hall. The debacle of the weekend had brought Brienne a new perspective, and the fact that she hadn't had any dreams since Friday night should have brought Brienne some reason to feel positive. However, the emotional turmoil was like a grey mist in her brain that she tried to shake off.

Fred and George quickly grew wise to the fact that Angelina had learned of Zéphyrine's death; it was from the fact that Angelina had suddenly become more nurturing and kind to the three of them, not just Brienne. She knew this was partly to keep up appearances and partly that Angelina had the opportunity to smile at Fred and see him smile back.

At the Great Hall, Brienne and the others were eating breakfast and perusing their timetables for the day; The Twins and Lee Jordan were buzzing about the fact that DADA was their first lesson- Professor Lupin had returned from his mysterious leave, and was looking sickly and shabby at the Staff Table.

As Brienne poured herself some pumpkin juice, she heard a familiar voice over her shoulder,

"G'morning everyone?" Paisley muttered to the five of them. She was stood behind Brienne, who turned and grinned at her Scottish friend.

"Morning," she said.

"Hi."

"Hiya Paisley."

"Hello!" Both Twins greeted.

Fred continued on his own, "Don't think because of the weather you won fairly, Hamilton."

Paisley smirked, "Never. But y'know, we would have won anyway."

Fred scoffed, and turned back to his brother and Lee. Paisley bent slightly over Brienne's shoulder,

"How d'you feel, Bree?"

Brienne smiled; she liked the way her name sounded in Paisley's accent, "I'm a lot better, thank you" she wasn't sure if she was lying or not.

Paisley beamed, "Good. I'll see you later; Divvy Nation."

Brienne breathed out a laugh at her crude joke at their least favourite lesson, "I look forward to every minute."

Paisley waved and returned to her own table.

"Alright everyone, books away, wands out please." Professor Lupin announced to the class as he swept in, setting his bag down on the desk and pulling out his wand from his robe pocket. He took his cloak off and in a sweeping motion set it on the back of his chair.

As was routine in Lupin's lessons, the pupils stood and followed suit. Before long they were all stood in small groups at regular spaces through the classroom. Brienne stood with George whist Fred was joined by Angelina and Alicia Spinnet. A Ravenclaw girl who introduced herself shyly as Lilia joined Brienne and George before the hum of the students died down.

"We're continuing with Patronus Charms today; I noticed that nobody completely mastered it in our last lessons together-"

"But Sir, Professor Snape-"

"Don't worry about that, Alicia," Lupin grinned, "I am your teacher for this subject. Now as I was saying, we do need to build up our skills here, especially after the...uh, incident this past weekend. Some people were taken ill by the Dementors, and were unable to defend themselves; I know the Headmaster has tightened the Dementors freedom, but we cannot allow our students to be unprepared. Places please everyone. You know what to do."

Over the next hour and thirty minutes, the small groups practised together at trying to produce a consistent stream of silver steam from their wands, and when that was accomplished they separated to attempt creating physical forms. Lilia- the Ravenclaw girl- achieved the task within ten minutes of working on her own; her Patronus blossomed in the form of a large crab, which scampered around the room majestically before evaporating into a fine mist. She had been the first in the class to create a fully realised Patronus, and Professor Lupin congratulated her enthusiastically, awarding twenty points to Ravenclaw for her success.

George turned to Brienne, "Am I missing something?"

Brienne shrugged, "I know I am."

Then both turned as Alicia Spinnet was yelling and pointing at a swiftly evaporating vision of a winged creature, the imprint of which still glowed in the stuffy air, "_Aww,_ it's gone."

The rest of the class issued forth a murmur of disappointment, and went back to their efforts.

Professor Lupin circled the class, his hands clasped behind his back, stopping occasionally to help someone with their wand technique or incantations. In one of his revolutions, he discreetly whispered "Please come to my desk after the lesson," into Brienne's ear before making a general gesture to imitate the correct posture to be taken, and then gave Brienne a smile that intimated that she was not in trouble.

George sighed, screwed his face up tight and brandished his wand, "_Expecto Patronum!" _

A stream of shining silver light wisped out of his wand.

He tried again, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

This time, the silver light streamed out a little faster, and curled in the air as if it had a certain form in mind, but faded before it was fully fashioned.

Brienne- who was feeling slight morose after her own failed endeavours-watched him, only half paying attention. The whole room was glittering- from the silvery wisps what were shimmering from the wands, but also from the dust motes that were swirling in the air, lit up gold by the rare shaft of sunlight through the window. The whole room was full of laughter and quiet determination and sparkles.

"You go on guys," Brienne grinned at her friends, "I need to ask the Professor something."

The group exited the room- with Fred smirking knowingly- and Brienne took a deep breath as she heard Lupin levitating the desks to their original spaces. The Sun had disappeared behind a cloud, and all sparkle was gone from the room.

"Brienne," Lupin said, sweeping across the room and sitting at his desk, his arms folded, "Thank you for staying. I just wanted to apologise for the first time we spoke a few months ago."

Brienne pursed her lips, "It's alright, no harm done."

Lupin gave a small smile, as if that gave him some relief, and continued, "There is something else I wanted to ask you about today."

"What is it, Sir?"

Lupin paused before adding, "Something that may answer your previous question."

Brienne had to think to remember; her first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson was hazy, "The one about my mother?"

"Yes. You asked if I had any idea how she died."

"I know; my father sent me a letter."

"You know that she was killed; but you don't know the circumstances of her death."

Brienne flinched, but she knew that Lupin was building up to something, something she desperately wanted to know. She couldn't get distressed.

"Yes?"

Lupin glanced towards the door, where a line of students was forming; as if in support of this indication the bell for the next lesson rang shrilly.

"I know you need to get to your next lesson, I'll make this quick. Your father made an agreement with someone from the Ministry; an old friend of ours, a wizard in the Auror Office. The agreement was that our friend would pass on any information that came to light about the investigation into your mother's death."

Brienne's heart was racing.

"Your father asked me to pass along the message; he wanted to know if you were keen to receive these reports also, from him of course." Lupin added.

Brienne gulped, "I don't know. I...I'm seeing my father for Christmas."

"They can start after the Christmas break, if you like, there's no rush." Lupin looked as if he were trying to make the matter as easy for her as possible.

"In that case...yes, please. I would like that."

Lupin nodded, "I'll send an owl to your father this afternoon."

Brienne protested- she would have liked to send an owl to her father herself, and then the fact that she was already five minutes late to Herbology made her nod, thank the Professor and swiftly leave.

"_Hi Dad,_

_Professor Lupin told me today about the arrangement with the Aurors; if that's OK with you I'd like to get the reports too, starting after Christmas. He said the Auror is your friend from your own Hogwarts days- hopefully he can help us._

_School is doing well. I've made friends with Fred and George Weasley, and a couple of girls. They're very accommodating, and very supportive about everything. _

_I also wanted to ask if I could stay with you during the Christmas break. Most of my friends are going home as well; and it would be nice to spend some time with you, since when I moved in with you I wasn't very good company. _

_Please let me know,_

_I love you, Daddy._

_Brienne,_

_xxx_

_Brienne,_

_Of course you can stay with me! You've stayed with me every Christmas for eight years. I would be lonely if you didn't come home. And neither of us can really afford to be lonely at this time in our lives. I'm glad that you've made great friends. I know Arthur Weasley vaguely from work, and he's a good man. _

_About the other matter, we can talk about it when you come home. _

_I'll see you in a few weeks._

_I love you too, sweetheart,_

_Dad,_

_X_

Later that day, when Brienne and Paisley were chatting during Divination, there was a knock on the door. Everybody looked up; the lessons were rarely interrupted due to the intense climb up the North Tower. Professor Trelawney muttered "Enter," eerily and a small first year boy stepped in, panting.

"Professor...McGonagall wants to see...Ben Christie."

"I think you mean Brianna Christie," Trelawney replied condescendingly,

"I think you mean _Brienne_ Christie," Fred said, in a half-mocking impersonation of Trelawney.

The Professor completely ignored him, and waved her hand in Brienne's direction, "You are dismissed, Miss Christie. But be weary of the third floor- I foresee problems involving Peeves and an angry ogre."

Brienne, with a sense of testiness that two people had gotten her name wrong, and also delightedness that she was excused the lesson, collected her things and hurried out. She had only ever been to Professor McGonagall's office once, two weeks after the first day of term. The Professor had simply wanted an update on Brienne's emotional progress and to offer her any counselling that she might have needed. Brienne had respectfully declined, not thinking that any counsel could have possibly helped.

She could hear a distinctly faint hum of raindrops pattering on the roofs of the castle- they were only faint because of the magical enchantments that were used to not distract the students and staff from their work due to loud weather. The castle felt oddly quiet- as she had rarely walked along the corridors with them in their empty state.

When she arrived outside the office, Brienne knocked twice on the brass panelled door.

"Come in," she heard McGonagall say imperiously,

"Good afternoon, Professor," Brienne said in a small voice, having stepped in the door and closed it behind her.

Professor McGonagall, wearing a long emerald green robe, turned in her desk chair and appraised Brienne over her glasses.

"Good afternoon, Ms Christie," she said, "Sit."

Brienne sat on the other side of the desk, setting her bag on the floor.

"Am I in trouble, Professor?"

"Not at all. I was merely requesting you for another update on your progress."

This surprised Brienne; it had been months, and she had been in the middle of a lesson. Their previous meeting had been during a weekend. McGonagall inspected a piece of parchment on her desk, before looking back at Brienne,

"I am looking at reports here which have been made by your teachers, Christie. This is your OWL year, and your teachers report that you are working at a pass rate for most of your subjects. Professor Flitwick says you are a 'delight' in his classes, and Professors Snape and Lupin both deem you adequate. Professors Trelawney and Sinistra however determine that you must concentrate more."

Brienne paused, "That's...OK." she offered.

"Indeed," McGonagall leaned forward, "It appears that you have begun to fit in at Hogwarts well."

Brienne did not know what to say, so simply nodded. She was not used to conversing with teachers; the ones at Beauxbatons were extremely aloof.

"I was also going to ask about a certain conversation that you had with Professor Lupin this morning."

Brienne's head snapped up, "Um."

"You should have talked to _me_ about such a matter, Ms Christie. In the matter of a death in the family, any fraternizing with the Ministry, at your young age, is a very precarious manner."

Brienne swallowed, "It's my father who's in contact with the Ministry, and I'm only having the information passed on-"

"It's become apparent that you are still very much still in bereavement."

Brienne paused again, "Well, it's only been six months. It will be a while until..."

Professor McGonagall waited for Brienne to continue, but she couldn't.

"I'm aware that you are friends with those Weasley twins," the Professor said, her voice slightly softer than before, "are you sure that they are the correct people to be in company with, with things as they are?"

To Brienne, this was the most shocking thing that the Professor had said in her entire visit.

"Yes, I am. They're being very understanding about everything. More than I could have expected."

"And you have other friends?"

"Yes. Angelina Johnson, and a Hufflepuff, Paisley."

"That is all?" McGonagall leaned forward again, and dropped her voice slightly, "It is my experience my dear, that when a loved one is lost, as many people you can get to surround and ease you, the better."

Subsequent to Brienne leaving the office, she had to divert her path to get to Charms class, as Divination had then finished. After she had entered the Charms classroom and given Professor Flitwick the note from McGonagall to explain where she had been, Brienne looked over at her usual table, where Fred, George and Angelina were attempting to levitate small buckets of freezing water over the class without spilling, which was the task for that days' lesson.

George spotted Brienne from across the room and his wand quivered, just the slightest bit. She supposed he must have lost control as there was soon a scream of alarm from one of their fellow students, and the occupants of their table bursted into laughter.

Brienne grinned at her friends as she sat. She remembered Professor McGonagall's words; but she ignored them.

She had the best friends she could possibly want.


	11. Part 2, The Hermit

Hey! I hope y'all enjoy Chapter Eleven! _Please_ review with your thoughts! Toodles!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or locations except for Brienne and Paisley.

**The Joker and Her, Chapter 11**

The Hermit, Part 2

Time over the next month flowed smoothly and breezily. With the bleak frost of November having transitioned into the snowy blanket of December, the atmosphere of the castle and grounds transformed swiftly. In the passing of the month, the dark, brimming clouds that decorated the ceiling of the Great Hall turned bright and optimistic; this reflected the tender crispness outside.

The change of the weather outside the castle however could not match the change of the spirits within. Christmas was approaching, and the overnight embellishment of the castle into one smelling of pine and roasted chestnuts altered the castle and everybody in it hugely. Students were excitable; most of the cheerful teachers became less strict in their homework-setting, and there was a widespread hum of anticipation toward the upcoming holiday.

Brienne's outlook on life had also improved drastically as the month went on. Soon after Angelina had found out about Zéphyrine's death, Brienne had found the nerve to also come clean to Paisley and Lee Jordan; both of whom had been enormously sympathetic. Neither of them had changed their demeanour around Brienne, which was appreciated- and knowing of it helped them to know when Brienne needed to be treated normally and when she needed silence or alone time. Brienne hated to demand this of them, but she steadily felt such immense recovery in this period that she could amount it to no other factor than her friends and companions at Hogwarts, and of the castle itself. Even her marks were improving- although there was no way that she thought she could ever enjoy Divination.

But the biggest change, the one that had made the largest impact, was the fact that Brienne had had a mere seven nightmares over the thirty days that had passed- all of which still revolved around the tarot cards and their mysterious messages. The number and vividness of dreams dwindled as time went on, and Brienne could only attribute this to the fact that she was feeling a lot better.

It was the eighteenth of December, and the last day before the end of term. It was a Saturday, and the group were preparing to visit Hogsmeade as an end-of-term treat. Brienne had had the opportunity to go to Hogsmeade once before that term, but it was in October and she was in no mood to trawl around shops.

The morning of the trip, whilst Angelina and Brienne were finishing up lunch, Fred and George appeared keen to get all of their Christmas shopping done. They were dressed for the occasion, the Twins wearing matching maroon robes with knitted blue jumpers underneath, Angelina was dressed casually in jeans and a thick plain jumper, and Brienne wore a deep green sweater and her black cloak. All three had their red-and-gold Gryffindor scarves and gloves ready for when they departed.

The day was unseasonably bright and fresh, and there was an atmosphere of winding down for the students- for today, no homework was to be set, no books to be slaved over and food was no longer to be an afterthought for the older students, who had been studying hard for either their OWLS or NEWTS. There was a quiet hum, and the smell of bacon and the outside air.

"...Right, so we get that book on dragons that we saw last time for Charlie-" Fred opined.

"-And a Sneakoscope for Bill, cause the last one didn't go down too well, did it? Broken." George suggested.

"Lump of coal for Ron?"

"It must be horrible having such a big family at Christmas," Angelina muttered to Brienne, "I wouldn't know where to start at this time of year."

"I would love to have a big family, _just_ for these times of year." Brienne stated sadly, her eyes downcast. She could hear an intake of breath from Angelina, and then a pat on her shoulder, "Sorry."

Brienne shook her head at her, smiling.

The four of them quickly finished and got ready, pulling on scarves and gloves; Brienne had a dark blue woollen hat pulled over her ears, which made her dark blue eyes more noticeable. Then, they ventured out into the snowy grounds, following other students to the castle gates. The boys walked slightly ahead, with the girls trailing behind silently; Brienne heard Fred's voice continue to discuss gifts,

"We'll just get something relatively Muggley for Dad, some electrickery thing...what about Mum, mate? What can we get the biggest perfectionist in the World?"

"Eh?" George appeared absent-minded.

"How about _Mum_?"

Then there were two gasps of breath. Brienne gulped and exhaled loudly to disguise her gasp of grief- the pain rushed back in full force, accentuating the permanent blunted twinge in her chest. Fred snapped around to look at Brienne, his face aghast. George looked furious, and Brienne could feel Angelina's hand return to her shoulder.

"Sorry, Bree." Fred said quietly, shaking his head at himself,

"Don't be silly," Brienne replied, trying to smile, "Don't think you can't talk about your Mum's in front of me. Really. It's my problem, not yours."

Fred's eyes narrowed, and they kept walking. Brienne hurriedly told Angelina that she was alright, and they carried on. She was determined to be cheerful, whatever happened.

A bit further on, Fred nudged George with his elbow,

"What were _you _thinking about? If I hadn't had to say twice..."

"Sorry, mate, alright?" George sighed, and added softly, "I was thinking about what to get..." and he nodded his head behind them. Fred looked back at Brienne and Angelina, who were discussing something intently in low voices.

"Ah. What do you get _girls_ for presents?" Fred asked as they approached the town of Hogsmeade

George shrugged, "Zit remover?"

"What d'you reckon I should get Fred for Christmas, Bree?" Angelina whispered into Brienne's ear.

She shrugged, "Zit remover?"

Twenty minutes later, the boys and girls agreed to meet in the Common Room that evening, and they went their separate ways through the town of Hogsmeade. The town was beautiful; the freshness of the day made the snow on the ground glow, and it was blanketed over the thatch houses and shops like white icing on a cake. All of the buildings looked warm and inviting, with lit candles floating in doorways and in trees.

They all had to buy Christmas presents, including those for each other; the girls darted into Zonko's before the Twins could, leaving them wandering towards Gladrags' down the street.

The large shop was packed, if not with customers, then with precarious products, some of which jumped off of the shelves and onto passersby, made odd bubbling noises, and omitted a suspicious smell of melted rubber. Angelina led Brienne towards the back of the shop, and they started there.

"Be careful what you grab," Angelina cautioned, "some of the things in here can bite."

"So we're starting with the boys, then?" Brienne slowly picked up what looked like a rubber fish, which squawked loudly and transformed into a squeezy parrot which flapped out of Brienne's hands and disappeared over the top of the shelf.

"Not anything like that. Something clever. You know how they go on about their Joke Shop that they're gonna open when they're older."

"Yeah. So something like this, then?"

She picked up a Fake Wand, which shot a stream of Dungbomb smell into her face. Through her coughing and retching, Angelina gave her the thumbs up.

"Something like that."

"I thought girls liked jewellery, or make-up, or something." George moped, setting down a purple cashmere robe.

"Angelina likes clothes," Fred said sternly, "It's all I can think of getting her."

"What about jewellery or make-up?"

"She doesn't need make-up."

"Brienne doesn't like clothes."  
"She doesn't walk around naked, does she?"

"I dunno." George looked bemused, "She might do. In the dormitory."

Fred stared at him for a moment, "You're not to think of that, mate. Dangerous thoughts. What we'll do is, I'll get Angelina a present from both of us, and you can get Bree one."

"Alright then."

"Right. Which of these robes should we get for Angie? Blue odour-eliminating pyjamas, or the ones that change colour with her mood?"

"As long as she wears clothes in bed, I don't care, mate."

"You're _not to think of it_."

"So Fred gets the Dungbomb Making Kit from me," Angelina held it at arm's length, pinching her nose from the ingredients inside the pack.

"And I get George an Ever-Bashing Boomerang," Brienne frowned at it in its restraining packaging, "This isn't very interesting."

"Yes, but it's a new kind, he won't have it yet. It'll be a surprise for him."

"Will it?" Brienne looked at her, making a face.

Angelina shrugged, "They're boys, remember."

"Boys are still human- how can anyone find a Boomerang that attacks you interesting?"

"I don't know!"

"This is stressful."

"Let's go for a drink."

"You're getting her a _book_?"

"What do you suggest?" George held a book in either hand, looking anxious. They had moved into the Hogsmeade branch of Flourish and Blotts, and-having gotten their admittedly "boring" dragon book for their brother Charlie- searching for Brienne's present.

"Something that won't put her to sleep," Fred stood with his arms crossed, "Let's get her something to eat."

"Yeah, alright then. Let's go and get her a suckling pig, she'll love that."

Fred sighed, "Like something _sweet, _like some chocolate or something."

"She wouldn't want that- I know she'd prefer something to read."

"Oh right, I forgot she's your long life-hood pen pal. You know her _so_ much better than I do."

"A book could take her mind off things; she would go through chocolate in five minutes, she loves it."

"Hence my suggestion." Fred was looking increasingly agitated.

"_Argh_. Alright, I'll get her one of those Ever-Replenishing Chocolate Boxes from Honeydukes. They're a bit expensive, but at least my dear brother is happy."

"Are you sure you won't get her pyjamas either? Soothe your fantasies of her late-night nakedness?"

"Shut it."

Two hours later, having bought burgundy and emerald dress robes for Angelina and Paisley respectively, along with other uninteresting joke products for Fred and Lee, Brienne finally slumped into a squishy seat at The Three Broomsticks. Angelina, whom had just bought two Butterbeers with some of her remaining money, sat opposite her at a small, secluded table and removed her jacket. Both of the girls were freezing, and were feeling damp from the sky turning unexpectedly overcast and the air becoming humid. The pub was welcoming and comfortable, despite being almost full to the brim and purring with the conversations of the customers, most of which were Hogwarts students. Madam Rosmerta- the barmaid- was warm and inviting, and sympathetically brought over some amoretti biscuits along with their Butterbeers free of charge.

"Thank you." Brienne grinned at Madam Rosmerta.

"Thanks," Angelina took her Butterbeer and gulped it thirstily.

"Enjoy yourselves, dears." Rosmerta rubbed her hands on her apron and returned to the bar.

For a moment, the two sat and recharged their batteries. Angelina was staring into space as if there was something incredibly interesting on the wooden ceiling. Brienne was casting a Warming Charm on her jacket and clothes, before removing her shoes and giving her socks and feet some attention.

"How are you today?" Angelina asked as Brienne took her first sip of Butterbeer. She felt it slip warmly into her stomach, and it gave an effect similar to what it would feel like to contain concentrated flames within her.

Brienne answered truthfully, since she knew what she was really being asked, "Not bad, today. I'm feeling a lot better, actually."

"Good," Angelina smiled, "Has McGonagall said anything more to you since...?"

Brienne had told all of her meeting with Professor McGonagall- and her advice to find more friends.

"Nothing to do with that, no," In fact, Brienne had had another meeting with the Professor since then, but the subject of her companionship was not broached further. "Why do you ask?"

Angelina pursed her lips and crossed her arms around herself to warm up. She opened her mouth to speak, but what came out was a sigh of satisfaction as Brienne cast the Warming Charm briefly on Angelina's hair and clothes.

"Thanks, that's loooovely."

Brienne grinned in reply, "What were you going to say?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about what McGonagall said. About having more company."

"Yeah?"

Angelina's eyes narrowed, as if she knew what she was about to say would not go down well, "Do you remember the day we first became friends? The four of us, and Alicia and Katie were talking in the Common Room?"

Brienne had to think hard to remember the specific evening. Two particular things shone out from her memory.

"Yes..."

"Do you remember?" Angelina looked anxious.

"Yes," she repeated, "Was that the night we all had a water fight?"

Angelina nodded, encouraged, "Yep, that's it."

Brienne waited for her to continue, taking another gulp of her Butterbeer.

"Well, do you remember what we said to you? Me and the girls?"

"About what?"

"About...George?"

Yep, that was the other thing she remembered.

Brienne sighed, striking up another grin. "I hope there's a point to this dazzling conversation."

"There is." Angelina pursed her lips slightly, "What about...you go out with George?"

"I do _what _with _who?_"

"Go out with George. Or, maybe not George, but someone."

"How has that got anything to do with what McGonagall suggested?"

"Well, think about it." Angelina laced her fingers together, business-like, "McGonagall said you could do with some more people around you, but _you_ said you can't really cope with any more friends. So...why not get a boyfriend? _And, and_," she added as Brienne opened her mouth to speak, "who better than George? You two get on like a house on fire, and at least you don't have to meet anyone new."

Brienne thought for a moment, processing what had just been put to her, "There's one problem in your plan."

"Which is?"

"That I don't fancy George, and he doesn't fancy me."

Angelina cocked an eyebrow sarcastically, "I don't believe that for a second."

"What don't you believe?"

"First of all," Angelina leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on the table, Brienne cradling her tankard in her lap, "George can barely take his eyes off you most days, and to be honest I think if he had the chance he wouldn't take his hands off of you either-"

"_Angie_-"

"-_let me finish_. Second of all, I really think you think about him too."

Brienne replied sharply, annoyed, "How did you work that one out?"

Angelina looked straight into her eyes, "Sometimes, Bree, you go off into your own world. And I know most of that time is spent thinking of your Mum- I understand that. When you do, you go all still and intense. All of us notice it. But sometimes, I notice your eyes sort of shift, and you relax a bit. Then, I know you're thinking of what could be. About the future."

Brienne was speechless. She had never, ever considered the fact that Angelina could be so observant. She never knew that everybody took notice of her that much. But most of all, she never knew that someone that she had only known for four months could be so spot-on. Because of course she thought about what could be, all the time- what had been, what could have been, what her life would be without her Mother, what her life was now with her friends. Who killed her Mother? Why did she die? What did her dreams mean?

Angelina took a breath, and then continued, "Are you really, honestly telling me that you don't include George into those thoughts?"

"Yes, I am."

"I don't believe you."

Brienne pursed her lips this time, exhaling through her nose, "I don't..._think_...that way."

"Don't you fancy him?" Angelina sounded disbelieving.

"I...no...I don't know."

Angelina sat back finally, triumphant, "I knew it. _I knew you fancied him_."

"I didn't say I did! I don't know."

"Which means you do."

"Which means I don't know." Brienne suddenly felt very tired, "My point is how is this imaginary relationship supposed to happen if one person doesn't fancy the other and the other one doesn't have a clue?"

"George fancies you. I'm positive on that one."

"Or he wants his hands on me. Same difference though, eh?"

The two stared at each other for a moment, before dissolving into nervous giggles.

"The truth is though, I don't know if I'm really..._ready_ for something like that." Brienne looked down at her empty glass. Suddenly she felt very immature.

"Weren't there boys at Beauxbatons?"

"Yeah, but I was a bit of a loner there. I only had a couple of friends, and I wouldn't even call them that, really."

Angelina surveyed Brienne, an eyebrow cocked, "You've never fancied anyone before."

"Oh, I've liked people, but that was before..."

"Oh. Right."

"I've moved country, moved school, had to make all new friends, get used to speaking in English, and lost a parent. It's all a bit too much as it is."

"But a boyfriend could take some of that weight off your shoulders."

"No, he couldn't." Brienne looked at Angelina, sadness in her eyes, "The only man who can make me feel better is in London, and I won't see him until tomorrow. For now, my father is who I need the most."

Angelina finally looked down, her smile collapsed. After a moment, she looked up, a defeated grin forming on her face.

"Alright, alright. I was only trying to help." She stood, pulling her jacket on, "Those still, intense eyes of yours have melted me. Honeydukes?"

Brienne laughed quietly and took Angelina's arm as they exited The Three Broomsticks into the darkening day.

"You know, someone with magical blood must have invented chocolate," Angelina took another bite of her 'Bermooda's Cocoa Toffee Swig (a cocoa drink in every bite!)' and swallowed.

"I think that whoever invented chocolate," replied Brienne, sucking on her Everlasting Chocolate Ball, "was magical- regardless of their blood status."

Angelina nodded, her eyes filled with bliss.

They were back in the Common Room. The Room was filled with sleepy Gryffindors, most of which were in their pyjamas and were sitting in circles around tables or on the floor, doing homework or relaxing, having had a warm meal at The Three Broomsticks. Those who were not in the Common Room were probably either in their dormitories, packing for the Christmas holidays, or were getting ready for dinner. Angelina and Brienne were sat in a pair of armchairs in one corner of the Room, their spoils presented on the tiny table between them: Chocolate Frogs, Dommett's Mood-Shifting Chocolate Blocks, Bertie Botts, and Froobles' Fruity Filaments, along with many other Honeydukes products. The room was warmly lit, the fire was blazing, and life was good.

Brienne heaved herself off of her chair, "We should go to dinner."

"I don't know if I have room for anything more." Angelina moaned.

"I do. Come on."

The girls stood, and after putting away their loot, they ventured down to the Great Hall, bags on shoulders. Brienne felt comfortably satisfied from the chocolate, but she still craved something warm in her stomach.

"I know you don't, Bree. I know why you're coming down here."

"Why's that?"

Angelina narrowed her eyes, "_Geeeeooorrge_."

"Shut up."

But Brienne grinned sheepishly as they entered the Hall, and indeed, the Twins were there, flanked by Lee Jordan and their brother Ron. All four were relatively quiet, Ron speaking to his friends on his other side. The ceiling of the hall was a deep blue and was twinkling with an abundance of stars.

"Alright, you lot?" Angelina asked as she sat on the bench opposite Fred. He looked up at her tiredly,

"You had better bloody like your Christmas present."

Angelina raised her eyebrows at him before laughing.

"And you." George nodded at Brienne, who sat beside Angelina.

The girls exchanged a look, rolling their eyes.

Dinner was delicious, as always- Brienne helped herself to some gammon, mashed potatoes and gravy. Angelina had a mere ladleful of potatoes, as she was full from sweets. Fred and George were eating like machines, and before long their portion of the table was eaten clean. The group of five were all tired, swapping and giving each other their food in relative silence. George scraped the roast potatoes he couldn't finish onto Brienne's welcoming plate; she could feel Angelina's intense gaze as Brienne thanked the redhead.

By the time pudding arrived Brienne was fairly full, but spotted her favourite crème brulee which almost never graced the dinner table. She grabbed it and ate it unrestrainedly, enjoying every caramel-filled bite. George eyed her, amused at her enthusiasm. Brienne looked back at him; the navy eyes met the hazel and both parties looked away, coy. She could swear she felt Angelina's elbow nudge her surreptitiously, and she fought a nervous laugh. Something warm swelled in her chest, and the blonde settled for a content smirk.

"Come on," Fred muttered, standing and straightening his robes, "I'm knackered, and I've still got to pack."

"So do I," George said, masking his yawning mouth with a hand.

"I'm sure I'm the only one who's actually staying for Christmas," Angelina stated, lazily following the Twins out of the Great Hall and up to the Common Room.

Brienne brought up the rear, now full, now content, and now extremely baffled having seen George after the day's discussions.

She went to bed feeling something alongside the grief that would resurface in the night. The problem was that she wasn't entirely sure what it was.

_The classroom was no longer cold. _

_She stood, wearing no more and no less than before; moonshine glowed from the window, no longer crusted with ice, and she felt extremely warm. Almost uncomfortably so._

_Brienne turned slowly, to face the inexplicable tarot cards. They were sat on the table, glinting in the light from the moon, looking almost ethereal. _

_She moved- as she knew she had no choice to- to pick up the cards. With the first smooth, glossy card, she expected to see her mother's smiling face. However, all she saw was she; sat alone on a stool, book in hand. This brought Brienne up short- the cards were in the wrong order. This had never happened before._

_But each card, all four, depicted Brienne herself, alone, holding a book. 'The Hermit' was written in a loopy hand along the bottom. Four forlorn girls staring sadly. A familiar loneliness swept through the present Brienne, and before long her expression matched the cards perfectly. _

_The cards flickered, shifted. And before long new faces adorned the cards; Fred, Angelina, Paisley...and George. They all smiled up at her, having one card to themselves. Brienne started, shocked. _

'_You don't have to be alone, you know.' _

_Brienne smiled, tears cascading down her cheeks._

'_I know, Mama.'_

_She picked up the cards, slipped them into her robes. And she walked out of the classroom, the door closing behind her with a resounding thump._


	12. Was It?

Hi all! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please review with your thoughts, bad or good!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters, other than Brienne and my other OC's.

**The Joker and Her **

**Chapter 12**

Was It?

The next day- the first day of the Christmas holiday- Brienne awoke peaceful and cheery, for the first time in months. It was that day that she would be reunited with her father, after months of separation. Although she felt like she had become accustomed to Hogwarts and all of its quirks- and she loved the company of her friends, and appreciated the peaceful preoccupation that came with studying for her OWLS- Brienne felt like she deserved a break, and she could think of no other place to spend it than her father's home in London. She partly grew up there, having spent every other Christmas and summer with her father for as long as she could remember.

The day was fresh and bitingly cold. A clean blanket of snow had fallen overnight, and there was an air of excitement as students completed last minute packing and present-wrapping.

Brienne sat on her soft bed, fully clothed in her robes and cloak, her trunk and bag both tidily packed up, her hair in a loose ponytail. With her wand, she was lazily levitating her friends' Christmas presents in the air, Angelina's gift wrapped in red paper that she had bought at Hogsmeade, and George's Ever-Bashing Boomerang wrapped in blue paper. All around her, witches were bustling, bouncing on beds with their friends, getting dressed and venturing down to breakfast. After a sigh, Brienne pushed the gifts into her bag and followed, giving her dormitory one last sweeping look before going down to the Great Hall.

The Hall was decorated with massive Christmas trees that Hagrid had brought from the Forbidden Forest. Baubles hung in the air, and the ceiling was bright blue and cloudless. Every seat was occupied, and food and gifts were being exchanged before those who were to go home for Christmas were to board the train. Brienne was sat alongside Angelina, Fred and George, and was savouring the last Hogwarts food that she would eat for a while.

"- Fred, you know you won't have any dinner later if you have all that," George protested, helping himself to a mere bowl of cereal as Fred devoured a full English breakfast. George added to the girls, "Mum always makes enough to feed a thousand."

"My father's an alright cook," Brienne had already had a bowl of honey porridge and was now eating a bacon roll, "Even better with magic. But I fully intend to ransack the trolley on the train."

Angelina was slumped on the table over the copy of the Daily Prophet that her owl had just delivered, "I can't _believe _you've got me to get up this early to see you off. Couldn't you just send me an owl when you get home?"

Brienne and George both stared at her blankly.

"You wouldn't want Errol staring over at you when you wake up," George stated, "Actually, he'd probably fall on your head."

"Serge is quite vicious." Brienne agreed, "And I've already sent him to London so I don't have to bring him on the train."

"Serge is a lovely owl," Angelina disagreed, "I was feeding him yesterday in the dorm. He didn't scratch me once."

Brienne frowned, "Well, I repel animals, apparently."

"Because you're _so_ disgusting," George grinned, and got up, "I'm going to find Lee. See you later."

Brienne grinned back, deliberately avoiding Angelina's gaze as George walked up the Gryffindor table to Lee. Fred emerged from his breakfast, a thin line of yellow egg yolk running down his chin.

"Whe' are you two go' a snog?" he swallowed, "We're all waiting for it."

"Hmm?" Brienne pulled her bag onto her shoulder, "What was that, Fred? I didn't hear over the bacon rolling around in your mouth."

Fred shot her an extremely sarcastic look as Brienne stood and hugged Angelina's shoulders,

"I'll speak to you later, Chuck." Angelina said tiredly, squeezing Brienne briefly around the waist.

"Bye, have a Merry Christmas."

Angelina's response was distorted from a yawn, "Maaaaay Kissmas. Bye."

As much as Brienne would have traded her new life for her old one, one component from each she would always prefer. From her old life, her mother, and from her new, Hogwarts and everybody in it.

It was less than an hour before the Hogwarts Express was to leave Hogsmeade Station, and Brienne was standing in the courtyard which opened up to the Grounds. She was wrapped up warmly, and was just watching the Whomping Willow swaying gently, before gruffly shaking off the snow that had settled on its branches. The Lake was frozen, the black ice glassy, reflecting the castle in its depths; and the Forbidden Forest was feathery, jade, and festive. It was all so beautiful that she was astonished that she was the only person there, savouring it all, before she had to say goodbye to it.

Brienne sighed, and was about to pick up her bag before George's voice almost shocked her into slipping on the ice.

"What are you doing here? It's bloody freezing."

Brienne caught herself on a stone pillar before replying, "Just...nothing."

George raised an eyebrow, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

He didn't look convinced, frowning. Brienne felt a tug in her chest, his concern reminding her how she could tell the difference between the Twins: George was a shade more contained, collected, and sensitive than his brother. He was always concerned about the welfare of others when perhaps Fred was a little callous with his jokes. In this situation, Fred would drag Brienne inside against her will, probably at her best interests in being warm; George would leave her to her devices.

"...So, you'll sit on the train with us?" George muttered, "Lee, and us?"

Brienne blinked, surprised, "Yes...?" to her, there was no question about it.

"Right." George scuffed his shoes on the ground, and unexpectedly the atmosphere became awkward.

Brienne sucked in some ice-cold air, and her eyes wandered. The conversation had never struck out so quickly between them. There were a few moments of silence in which the two of them stared across the grounds, admiring the view, before George huffed, and then grinned. Brienne grinned back, and George stepped forward.

Brienne had never known George to initiate a hug. The closest level of intimacy that she had seen him partake in was him squeezing someone's shoulders; that was the closest that he had come to hugging Brienne, other than her overwhelmed crying jag in the Owlery, months before. So, it was safe to say that she hadn't expected George's arms to suddenly encircle her. Which was exactly why she hadn't moved her head; and which was exactly why when George's lips abruptly and softly brushed over hers, both parties gasped and stepped away from one another, wide eyed from the unexpected contact.

Within seconds, both George and Brienne giggled nervously, and Brienne removed her hand from her mouth, revealing pinked cheeks. The tips of George's ears had turned red, and she didn't suspect it was from the cold.

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know-"

"-I was trying to hug you-"

"-Yeah-"

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

"Yeah."

They laughed again, before Brienne picked up her bag, and the two went inside.

At last, it was midday, and time for the train to depart from Hogsmeade Station. All of the luggage had been packed on board, and the platform was almost full of students, saying goodbye to friends that had bothered to accompany them to the station and making sure that they had everything.

Brienne, Fred, George and Lee had found a compartment and were getting settled in; the four of them were heavily wrapped in fabric as the Twins had stolen their dormitory duvets and were sharing one whilst Brienne and Lee shared the other. Slicked shoes were kicked off, the window was shut, and the deck of Exploding Snap cards was being dealt. They played until they could feel the train moving and could see Hogsmeade Station slide from view. They all paused for a moment to watch Hogwarts disappear as they turned a corner, before continuing in tired silence.

Brienne's mind was still reeling from the accidental kiss. She hadn't been able to enlighten Angelina about the incident, and so was burning to unleash some sort of emotion. It was difficult to determine if George had let on to his brother or to Lee about it, as they were all maddeningly acting as if nothing had happened. Brienne pressed her toes to the jar containing blue flames which was on the floor, acting as a radiator to the four shivering Gryffindors.

As the journey wore on, she came to the conclusion that George must not have told; Fred and Lee would have surely been teasing to help laugh the situation off. As it was, George acted completely normally; he didn't look at Brienne if they weren't talking directly to one another, and no matter how hard she tried she simply couldn't face bringing it up in conversation.

So for some of the ride back to London, Brienne window-gazed, removed her outer layers of clothing which were wet from the snow, and absent-mindedly twirled her wand between her fingers.

"Brienne, are you sure you aren't angry at someone?" Lee asked, as for the third time her wand had accidentally shot out red sparks or even fire that the three boys had had to bat off.

Brienne stuttered, "I-I'm _not_, I don't know why it's doing it." She gripped her wand in her hand, glaring at it as if it had betrayed her on purpose.

Lee smirked flirtatiously, "What have you been thinking about, young lady?" he slung an arm around her shoulder, "Passionate thoughts?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"_No-thing_," she glowered, as Lee cocked an eyebrow sardonically.

Fred and George were both watching from the other side of the compartment, arms folded. Brienne shot a furious look at them, her revulsion at Lee's advances not apparent to the latter.

"Give over, mate," Fred sniggered, "I don't think she's floating in your direction."

"I just wanted to cheer her up," Lee objected, "A bit of snogging would do anyone good," he added in a cheeky undertone.

Fred's expression faded, as his brother darkly muttered "I don't think she wants to snog you, mate," at the same time as Brienne snorted, folded her arms and indignantly growled "And what makes you think that snogging _you_ would cheer me up?"

George and Brienne glanced toward each other before the latter continued, "And what makes you think that I need cheering up anyway? Because I don't fancy you?"

Lee sat back, brushing his dreadlocks back, "Uh, uh..." he stuttered, stunned.

"It's just a laugh, Bree," Fred addressed softly; "He didn't mean any harm."

"Because it's all just one big joke, isn't it? The fact that I'm _miserable_ and nothing's changing?" Brienne paused to take a breath and swallow the angry tears that were surfacing, "'Bree's grieving, let's take the Mickey! Let's turn it all into a joke!' "

"Brienne, I didn't mean..." Lee hastened,

"No, you _never _mean, but you still say it!" Brienne yelled, before she reigned herself in. She hadn't particularly enjoyed her education at Beauxbatons, but if she had been taught one thing there it was composure. That was something that she had unwillingly given up over time. Her lower lip trembling, Brienne blinked her tears away, gathered her things and stormed out of the compartment, leaving three staggered and silent teenage boys in her wake.

Brienne stalked through the carriages of the train, peeking in compartments in search of Paisley. She felt her heart hammering, and determinedly tried to control her breathing and calm down. She hadn't meant to become so angry. What had happened to her day? To her cheerfulness?

Eventually, after walking through two carriages, she found Paisley, who was sitting in a compartment with her younger sister, Amy. Both Hufflepuffs looked up, startled at Brienne's rushed entrance, from the game of chess that they had been playing.

"Bree...?" Paisley asked, puzzled, as Brienne shot into the room and slammed the sliding door shut behind her.

Brienne held up a finger to her lips, signalling silence, as she quickly peeked out of the compartment to see if anybody had followed her. Sliding the door shut again, Brienne huffed and sat beside Paisley, who peered at her quizzically. Amy, a second year with piercing green eyes that matched her sisters', noticed that her game of chess was over and pulled the days' edition of _The Daily Prophet _out of her bag.

"What's going on then?" Paisley asked with a smile as Amy became absorbed with her newspaper.

Brienne groaned, and related the whole story to her Scottish friend, including the accidental kiss, George's nonchalance, and Lee's outright rude flirting. As she related her day, she felt her pulse slow and her breathing calm, and Paisley soothingly oohed and aahed and scowled in all of the right places.

When she had finished relating her day, Paisley sat back, her arm resting on the back of the bench.

"So you don't fancy Lee, then?"

The frankness of the question and the obviousness of the answer made Brienne laugh brusquely, "No, I don't."

"Have you e_ver_ fancied Lee?"

Brienne frowned, and shook her head, "No, definitely not."

A gratified smile played upon Paisley's lips, "You fancy George then."

"Uh, nuh...uh, no. It's not a case of that."

"You wanted the Twins to protect you."

"Not _protect, _that's a little bit dramatic, but I don't know, control their friend."

"...Especially seeing as George kissed you this morning and didn't seem to mind that his friend was all over you." Paisley noted.

"Yes. No! Um, the kiss was accidental, so...I don't _know_." Brienne cried, confused with the situation.

Paisley grinned knowingly, a twinkle in her eye, "_Was it?_"

Brienne was about to object, before there was a swift knocking on the door. All three girls- for Amy has been listening furtively- stilled and looked at the door, which slid open to reveal Fred, George and Lee all standing with their hands on their hearts and staring into space.

Paisley and Brienne exchanged a look as Lee entered the compartment and dramatically dropped to his knees in front of them. The offending boy threw back his head and recited theatrically,

"I - Lee Jordan - apologise to you –Brienne 'Bloody Gorgeous' Christie – for being a bit too forthright with your blondeness, and frankly, a bit of a prat. Do you forgive me, the dreadlocked one, for my insolence and inability to resist your Frenchness?"

Brienne paused, tried to bite it back, before smiling with pursed lips, and nodding. Lee stood, and bowed ceremoniously. As he bowed, the train lurched slightly on the tracks and Lee flew into the seat between Brienne and Paisley, his head on Paisley's lap. Everybody laughed, as both Lee and Paisley turned bright red and sat up straight.

"I don't think we've met, I'm Lee Jordan." Lee spluttered, his cool exterior shattered,

"I know, and we have actually met," Paisley replied coolly, her arms folded. She was clearly uncomfortable and was openly determined to appear unfazed.

Brienne felt somebody slip into the seat on her other side, and turned to see Fred, laughing his head off at Lee. George perched next to Amy on the other side of the compartment, looking uncomfortable but smiling along with his brother.

They spent the rest of their journey in that compartment; after Paisley used a nifty Extension Charm on Fred's bag so it could contain their duvet covers inconspicuously. Amy left to find some friends, and Lee spent the remainder of the train ride with his arm wrapped casually around Paisley's shoulders; the latter of which remained cool and composed with the close proximity she had to an 'actual boy.' The Twins and Brienne sat in a relatively tense, uncomfortable silence with each other, only occasionally making eye contact and smiling awkwardly.

A quarter of an hour before the Express was due to arrive at Kings Cross Station, all of the occupants of the carriage stood and gathered their belongings; whatever Wizarding outer layers of clothing they used to keep themselves warm were changed and replaced with less conspicuous Muggle coats and hats.

As the fumble settled down, and everybody sat back down, Brienne felt somebody reach over and squeeze her knee. Before she could see who it was, they let go; Brienne saw George's hand withdraw from her direction, and they fleetingly held eye contact as Brienne pursed her lips in a friendly smile. George winked from where he sat, and the two swiftly rejoined the conversation.

"Remember to write me, although your owl might have to rest at my place for a few days," Paisley tightened her scarf slightly,

"I'll send you your Christmas present," Brienne grinned, "Have a nice holiday."

She patted Paisley's shoulder; the Scottish girl then snorted and threw her arms around her friend's shoulders.

"Bye!"

Brienne grinned, "Bye."

As Paisley blended into the throng at Platform 9 ¾, her sister being dragged along by the hand, Brienne scanned the crowd in search of her father. She span around when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and tried to suppress her hasty feeling of disappointment as she saw the Twins.

"Don't you bugger off just yet," Fred said as he picked Brienne up in a squeezing hug, "We're not finished with you yet."

"Prepare to be our testing rat this Christmas," George stated, "We're sending you some of the developmental prototypes of our products."

"If we can sneak them past Mum." Fred put Brienne down, and then tapped the side of his nose as she gave him a quizzical look.

"I'm going to miss you two."

"Shut up," George grimaced, and then exchanged a look with his brother, "Come 'ere."

Then George hugged Brienne again, for the briefest of seconds, before letting go. They shared a relieved look that acknowledged their mishap that morning, and George gently tucked a few escaped strands of her hair behind her ear. Brienne sighed, glad that they were on equal footing again. They parted, 'bye'ing, and waving in the wake of a rather formidable looking, short woman who could only be their mother, whom they hugged and followed to the passageway to King's Cross.

Again, Brienne scanned the rapidly thinning crowd, to no avail. For a moment, Brienne remained on the platform, her things at her feet, and reflected on her day and how quickly everything had changed. Six months before, she never would have thought that she would have spent her day fixating on an accidental kiss with a boy. She felt a clutch of guilt, and for a moment a layer of gloom passed over her. Brienne took a deep breath, and felt the pressure lift. Perhaps she _was _getting better.

She heard a scuffle of feet on the platform, a relieved sigh, and then a voice,

"Brienne!"

Brienne spun around so fast she almost toppled over, and this time it _was_ who she was looking for. And for a moment, words escaped her.

"_Dad,_" she croaked, a smile splitting her face in half.

They reached each other within an instant, and Brienne burrowed her face into her father's neck, and inhaled the scent of dust and his tweed suit.

"I missed you, Petal," her father exulted, speaking as though Brienne had gone away on purpose.

Brienne laughed, and in that instant- hearing her father's pet name for her- nothing hurt at all.


	13. My Father

Hi everyone! I'm glad those of you who reviewed enjoyed chapter twelve, and please review this one with whatever you think. Thanks again!

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 13**

My Father

It always felt this way. Like being wrapped in a warm towel after swimming in the freezing ocean. Like drinking something cold after a period of blistering thirst. That was the way it was with her parents, and it was particularly potent since the passing of her mother. Most of all, she was used to seeing her father after long periods of time, and so seeing him so much sooner than she was used to was a relief of gargantuan proportions. If only it were a regular occurrence, and not the obligation of a tragedy.

"Let's get you home," Douglas Christie muttered softly, holding Brienne to him securely by the shoulder and guiding her out of King's Cross. She let herself be guided, suddenly the age of twelve again being cuddled by her father at Christmastime.

The air was freezing and the floor slick- most of the Station was deserted from some of the service lines being cancelled because of the weather. Brienne wasn't nearly dressed warmly enough, and she was still nursing from the arguments and adventures of the day. But it was impossible to repress the feeling of being completely and utterly supported, protected and safe, and that none of those things mattered. Her mother had been taken from her, but her father had been returned blissfully.

They exited the Station, trailing around the corner and down the road, dragging Brienne's trunk behind them. London was bustling, with last minute Christmas shopping being done by Muggles rushing into shopping centres. Miniature trees were sat in shop windows and bushels of tinsel decorated street lamps and entrances to shops. It all felt very festive.

A few streets down, her father guided her down a deserted, thin alleyway in between two different fast food branches. There was water running down the drainpipes and into the gutters; the trickling of it was the only sound after Brienne's father cast a Muffliato Charm around the alley.

They grinned at each other in their comfortable silence as Brienne wrapped her arms around her father's waist, he turned them around sharply and they Disapparated into the darkening day.

"Gawh! Let's get the fire burning."

Brienne and her father rushed into his Knightsbridge home, clicking on lights and hanging up coats that had gotten cold. Brienne shut the front door behind her, and rubbed her hands together as she took in her familiar surroundings.

She was standing in a high ceilinged but narrow hallway, the wooden staircase on the left leading up to the first floor. There were some framed portraits on the walls of famous wizards and witches, including one of Brienne's slightly wrinkled, dark haired grandmothers. The walls were painted burgundy; and all the fixtures of the stairs, floors and doorframes were mahogany and juniper, russet and coffee, which set off the deep red of the walls.

Having hung up her coat on the wooden stand next to the front door, Brienne followed the scent of the fireplace into the living room, where her father was putting his wand back into his pocket with one hand and prodding the fire with the poker with the other. He turned to her and smiled, his ruffled blonde hair sticking up.

"How does it feel to be back?" he asked, hands in pockets. Brienne simply smiled in response.

"I'm going to unpack my things," she said after a brief moment of silence, and turned to heave her trunk up the staircase to the first floor, leaving her father to his devices.

It was wonderful being back home. Throughout her childhood she spent most of her holidays at her old home in France, but she had always in the back of her mind known that she shared her tastes in comfort and decor with her father; so it never took long for Brienne to feel at home here, regardless of how long it had been since her last visit. However, there were a few drawbacks to leaving school.

For instance, over the next couple of days she hated not being able to use magic when not at school, because that meant either doing it the Muggle way or asking her father for help; she was allowed to do magic outside of school when she was a student at Beauxbatons. It felt ridiculous asking an ex-Auror to fix her trunk, when after flipping it open too many times the lid falls off. She needed her father to take her seriously, especially in the coming hours and days.

As she got settled in her now-permanent bedroom a couple of evenings later, she started to think. The room was, like the hallway downstairs, painted a warm crimson, and it made Brienne think of the Gryffindor dormitory, and then of her friends. And then, of George. It seemed odd that she no longer counted George one of her friends, as something..._else_. She couldn't quite put her finger on what that was. She thought of the moment when their lips grazed each other's a couple of days before. A shimmer of something went through Brienne, like someone tickling her stomach, and then she smiled briefly, like she couldn't help it. It was accidental, but then again...Angelina and Paisley must have made those observations with some kind of evidence.

"Brienne!"

"Yes?"

"Dinner's on the go."

Like always, Brienne felt a little bit of enthusiasm whenever her father cooked for her. He was, after all, an amazing cook, and a couple of times over her childhood Brienne had had half a mind to send an owl over the Channel to her father to ask for some edible reinforcements- her Mother had not been a dab hand in the kitchen, and her exploits in the culinary side of things turned out acceptable at best. They were almost family to the Wizarding Cookery and Delivery branch of their area, who would travel by Floo Powder or by Apparition to make sure they had a warm meal in them.

Anyway, Brienne had always thought that if her father had never gone into the Ministry, then he should have created his own Wizarding Catering service, or even opened his own restaurant in Diagon Alley. However, as she hopped down the stairs to the kitchen she heard a rather loud clatter and a bang, and then a cluster of muttered curses and swear words from her father. Then again, perhaps he was not the most coordinated of wizards to operate a kitchen.

"Need any help?" Brienne asked, taking her wand out of her pocket hopefully. Her father looked up from the pan of tomatoes that he had dropped on the floor,

"No, no, you put that wand away." He levitated the pan and the tomatoes, dropping the pan on the side and the tomatoes in the sink, "You _can _help me whip up some balsamic glaze. You're a dab hand at Potions..."

So together, Brienne gathered, peeled and chopped some plum tomatoes and onions, as her father tended to the rest of the meal. They descended into a quiet silence as Brienne dropped them into a pan and stirred.

"So, tell me about your friends," Douglas enquired after a couple of moments' silence, "you mentioned the two Weasley boys?"

"Yep," Brienne replied, stirring some balsamic vinegar and sugar into the tomatoes, "I met them on my first day; they're lovely."

"I know Arthur, their father; our departments aren't far from each other. He says they're a rowdy pair but they don't mean any harm."

"I'm also friends with Angelina Johnson. They're all on the Quidditch team."

"I didn't think you to be a fan of Quidditch."

"I'm not, really," she said to her father's hopeful voice, "but they enjoy it. I know this other girl, a Hufflepuff called Paisley- she's lovely, too."

"Do her parents work at the Ministry?"

"No, she's Muggle-born."

Douglas turned and looked over his shoulder at his daughter, "Got any, um, boyfriends on the quiet?"

Brienne almost dropped the wooden spoon she was using to stir her mixture, "No, Dad."

"Are you sure?" he asked teasingly, "I remember when I was at school- there was an eternal label attached to the Beauxbatons girls: that they were glamorous, beautiful, clever, vivacious. Of course it's not true, everybody's different. But then again, I did marry a Beauxbatons girl that fit all of those descriptions," he trailed off at that point, sighed, and then continued, "you're a wonderful girl Brienne, you'll find someone."

Brienne had been listening wistfully; she loved it when her Dad talked about her Mum. It was like listening to her two worlds being woven together, "I wasn't worried about it, Dad."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you have enough on your plate."

Brienne then lifted her pan and carried it over to her father, who was frying some scallops expertly, "Is this alright?"

Her father turned the scallops another time, and then got a spoon out of a drawer to taste, "Very good. Don't forget to season."

Ten minutes later, they were sat at the dining room table, eating. Her tomato sauce was a bit runny, but her father ate it with relish.

"Dad?" Brienne asked as she took their empty plates over to the sink, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he replied, muffling a belch with his handkerchief and sitting back in his chintz chair.

Brienne paused for a moment, "How did you and Mum meet?"

He sat up in his chair again, and crossed one leg over the other, his gaze sinking to the floor, "Goodness gracious me, didn't you know that?"

"No," Brienne returned to her seat, "Mum only told me that you met when You-Know-Who was still around."

"That's right," Douglas smiled, as if remembering the memory fondly, "we were both right out of school; your Mother came over here to help with the force against He Who Must Not Be Named."

"That's how you met?"

"That's right. My old acquaintance from school, Re- oh, you know him as Professor Lupin, he and his mates joined an informal organisation called the Order of the Phoenix after they graduated from Hogwarts. It was a force to bring You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters down."

"Yes?" Brienne said, encouraging her father to continue. She could tell her father was settling into his story, so she brought her knees up under her chin and got comfortable as he spoke.

"It was only a small ragtag group of Aurors and graduates- I wasn't old enough to be an Auror yet, but I was hoping to begin training. Unfortunately, we were the group of people that You-Know-Who targeted the most aggressively, except for the Muggles and Muggle-borns of course.

Your mother was part of a small group of fighters from France who bravely came over to help with the cause, and we incorporated them into the Order. Your mother was still young then, and so was I, I suppose. She was beautiful-"

"She always was." Brienne interjected quietly, her eyes watering at the thought.

"-Yes, yes, of course. Well, meeting her and becoming her boyfriend happened more or less simultaneously. We got engaged after a few months and, well, that's it. You know the rest."

"After a couple of _months_? Isn't that a bit premature?" Brienne asked incredulously.

"You've got to understand darling, people were dying. It was a case of now or never," her father shrugged, his eyes narrowing a bit in what looked like sadness, "I think, in hindsight, we should have waited a bit longer. Perhaps until after You-Know-Who's downfall. But then again, if that had happened, you would still be a little thirteen year old and we would probably not be having this conversation."

"Mum might still be alive."

Douglas looked at his daughter, who was mirroring his cheerless expression, "Don't say that, sweetheart. You don't know what would have happened."

Brienne swallowed and pursed her lips, "It wouldn't be a change from now. I don't have a clue what's happening as it is." She looked up at her father, and finally broached the subject she had been dwelling on for weeks, "What's happening with the investigation?"

Douglas looked at Brienne supportively, "Now's not the time." He flicked his wand, and got up from the chair as the dinner plates in the sink began to wash themselves.

"Then when _will_ be the time?" she shouted earnestly, "I've been waiting for months and months to find out what happened."

"Darling, we have to wait until we get the full picture. If I tell you what I know now, you won't be any more satisfied."

"Yes, I will! You don't know how I would feel-"

"Yes I do, sweetheart. I lost her too, remember."

"You lost her years ago." Brienne spat before she could stop herself. She gasped as the words left her lips, and tried to tell herself she didn't notice the flash of pain that came across her father's eyes. "I'm sorry Dad, I-"

But she couldn't finish her sentence. She didn't mean it? But she did. She was by far more deserving of the information than her father was; she had lost her _mother_. He had lost his ex-wife. But it didn't excuse what she had said.

"I'm sorry."

Douglas frowned at her, his voice croaking slightly, "Don't be silly. Of course you need to know, I understand that."

He got down onto his knees in front of Brienne and gripped her hands, but his tall stature meant that on his knees he was still taller than her, "I know that you're desperate to...to feel a closure. I remember when I lost my mother. I know."

He got up, straightened his clothing, and sighed deeply. Brienne only realised that tears were streaming down her cheeks when one of them slid into her open mouth.

"How about I send an owl to one of my old friends? Stanley Meadows, he's one of the chief Aurors in charge of the investigation. He can come for dinner, and let us both know what's been going on. How about that?"

Brienne nodded, her father's unwavering generosity moving her, "Thank you."

They hugged, and for the rest of the night they delved back into that comfortable silence, and slept soundly.


	14. Christmas

Hi! This is a bit of a long 'un, so get comfy! Please review and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, locations and mythology; I only own Brienne, Paisley and my other OC's, and my subplot.

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 14**

Christmas

The next week followed smoothly. Douglas had scheduled for his best friend, Stanley Meadows, a Head Auror, to come over for Boxing Day lunch, and so Brienne counted through the few days that were to come before she got answers. In the meantime, she helped her father embellish the house with Christmassy decorations; from the ceiling-high Christmas tree, with the glowing baubles which constantly changed colour and size, to the wooden angel figure sitting at the top which winked at them or fixed her hair whenever she was sure they were paying attention. Douglas even allowed Brienne to bewitch the decorations for her own room, so long as he didn't use his wand at the same time so the Ministry didn't detect the use of underage magic.

The snow that fell every morning came in dainty, powdery gusts, and the ice on the ground made it so they could only leave their house by Side-Along Apparition or by Floo Powder. But they didn't often need to leave the house. The company they received from one another was all, really, that they needed in the days coming up to Christmas. Douglas _would _leave, occasionally, but would always return within the hour, sagging with shopping bags, having warned Brienne to have her wand in her hand the entire time he was gone.

On Christmas Eve, she sent out Serge (after a muttered disagreement with her father over the fact that Brienne had never acquired an owl for herself) with her package and letter for Fred and George. She watched the stormy grey owl sweep into the distance, thinking of and missing her friends. Brienne had had to send her gifts for Angelina and Paisley a couple of days earlier, as they lived in Yorkshire and Edinburgh respectively, and she hadn't thought that the owl could stand to travel the four lengths of the country in one night. Serge had been sent back on Christmas Eve morning bearing two small packages wrapped in brown paper and a couple of small folded pages of parchment from her girlfriends; Brienne had put them at the foot of the Christmas tree ready for the next day.

Brienne awoke on Christmas morning with the sky still dark outside, and for the first time in days, snow wasn't falling as she got out of bed and slid her pair of blue slippers on. She brushed her hair, made her bed, and made a quick trip to the bathroom before venturing downstairs.

The living room was lit warmly with some lamps. Her father was awake, sitting in the puffy brown armchair, drinking a cup of coffee and reading _The Daily Prophet_. He looked up when Brienne came in, and his face split open in a smile.

"Merry Christmas, darling!" her father announced, getting up and gesturing to a breakfast tray that he had prepared on the living room table. Brienne smiled, and hugged her father, "Merry Christmas, Dad."

Her father had prepared a breakfast of soft, warm scones and buttery croissants; small bowls of butter, jam, marmalade, chocolate spread, and clotted cream, and jugs of orange juice and milk sat alongside them. It was their traditional breakfast. Her father gestured to the table, smiled and then sat down, clearly having been starving but had waited for his daughter to wake.

"You do know that this is the only reason I came home for the holidays," Brienne joked, and her father laughed.

They sat and ate and chatted until crumbs were all that was left on the tray, Brienne secretly thinking that those that had stayed behind at Hogwarts couldn't possibly have had a better Christmas breakfast. The sun had now fully risen, and the overcast sky reflected brilliantly off of the bright snow. It dripped and hung from tree branches, and the roofs of the opposing buildings were blanketed in white.

They then moved to the Christmas tree, where they slumped to the floor and exchanged gifts. Brienne had got her father a new tie from Hogsmeade, which had a different colour and pattern for every day of the year; as soon as he unwrapped it he put it on crookedly, and the tie flashed 'Merry Christmas!' in gold lettering as they heard a distinctive tapping on the window.

It was Serge, along with two other owls, who all had messages dangling from their feet. Douglas let them in; Serge carried a gift from Fred and George, and the other owls had short messages from Douglas' colleagues and friends from the Ministry. As her father read and chuckled at the Christmas cards, Brienne ripped open the present to reveal a small wooden box, big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Initially, she thought that it was intended to carry small pieces of jewellery, but then opened it to reveal a tiny chunk of chocolate. Pleasantly surprised that the gift wasn't just a storage item, Brienne popped the small chocolate-covered strawberry mousse into her mouth and closed the box in her hand. She let the chocolate melt in her mouth as she opened one of the two notes that accompanied the gift.

_Merry Christmas, Frenchy! I hope you like your present, I wanted to get you some pyjamas (because George was thinking that you could be naked at any point, and he couldn't have that) but we decided on an Ever-Replenishing Chocolate Box because Christmas simply doesn't nourish you enough. Oh, and it senses what kind of chocolate you want. I really wouldn't recommend an onion-flavoured one. Just saying._

_George sends his love (because he looooves you) and I send my...like. Have a good Christmas; try not to get too fat._

_Fred_

_X_

Brienne laughed several times whilst reading Fred's message, and picked up the gift box again only to find it now contained a small triangular shard of white chocolate. She ate it as her father settled into his armchair to reply to the messages he had received. More pleased than before with her gift – now knowing that it replenished itself with the exact kind of chocolate that she inwardly wished for - she picked up the second note:

_Bree,_

_Merry Christmas! I dread to think what Fred's letter said; can I please just say that I _haven't_ been saying your name in my sleep. Put some Veritaserum in him. Or not. Or - maybe - I have, and I had a nightmare about when you snogged me the other day._

_Ah, I kid, I kid. It wasn't that bad. And I admit I probably had something to do with it, being gorgeous and all. And I leaned in. Yeah, perhaps that was a snog too far. I'll stop; I can hear you saying "Shut up, George." _

_Have a great Christmas, and I look forward to seeing you back at Hogwarts. But not so I can snog you. Shut up, George. Now I'm saying it. _

_George_

_P.S. You know the Memory modifying spell? Yeah, throw this in the bin. Then use it._

Contrary to the last letter, Brienne was almost completely silent whilst reading George's note. It felt like her heart was vibrating, it was beating so hard. She couldn't really count the emotions that were running through her. The kiss was _intentional?_ Then a stream of surprised swear words (in both French and English) flitted through her head. What did this mean? Should she reply? What happens now? Is this _normal _friendly banter? Some of what George had put was so confusing and ridiculous it made her burst into a fit of laughter. What – _what – _was all that about?

Her fingers shook slightly as she set aside the message with that of Fred's and their gift, and picked up another package. She couldn't dwell on this. That would be counterproductive. She took a couple of deep breaths, and felt a warm glow settle in and around her chest cavity. Regardless of what on Earth George was talking about, he was nonetheless adorable.

She then opened Angelina's and Paisley's gifts – Angelina bought her a new set of soft bright red gloves, a scarf and a woollen hat, top of the range from Hogsmeade, and Paisley bought her '_Proven Reasons why Divination is Pointless and Clearly Wrong,'_ by Cassia Gilsig, the title of which made Brienne laugh louder than anything else she had seen that morning.

By the time that she had opened the last few of her gifts, which included a Wand Care Kit from her paternal relatives, and a couple of interesting Potions books from her favourite – and only, maternal – cousin, her father had finished up his letters and had gotten dressed in his green checked jumper and chinos. He re-entered the living room and chuckled at the sight of Brienne, still in her pyjamas, sitting on the floor and surrounded by presents and shredded-up wrapping paper. He had a long, thin box in his hands, covered in silver paper.

"You look about six years old," he muttered, turning the box around in his hands anxiously.

Brienne was compulsively opening and closing her Ever-Replenishing Chocolate Box, trying whatever odd flavours she could think up in her mind. She grinned up at her father, "I feel it."

Douglas got down onto the floor with Brienne, and the unexpectedly grave look on his face made Brienne forget about her other gifts, and her attention shifted to the mysterious parcel in his hands. He wrapped one arm tenderly around her, and held the box halfway towards her, as if offering it.

"I've got another present for you, but this, I think, is more important."

"What is it?" Brienne asked in a very small voice.

He cleared his throat, "It's...well, open it."

Brienne gently took the box and shook it gently- it didn't make any noise, and she reasoned that whatever was inside was tightly packed in. She gently lifted the lid, and she heard a clatter as she dropped the Chocolate Box on the floor.

"_Dad." _

"I know, sweetheart." Douglas sounded choked up, "It's only right that you should have it."

They both fell silent as Brienne lifted a long, juniper wand from the box, which was clearly the original box from the wandmakers, wrapped up in silver paper. She gripped the wand in her hand as if testing it for herself, but then put it gently down,

"Wasn't she..._buried_...with it?" Brienne asked, more stunned than upset.

"They, err...they had to examine it as part of the investigation," Douglas explained, "They had to know what your mother was doing in the days before."

Brienne grimaced; the idea of her mother's wand being "examined" gave her much the same feeling as the idea of her mother's body being probed. She tried to think back to her mother's wake, whether Brienne had noticed that Zéphyrine had not been buried with her wand. She felt dismayed- it was bad luck to the next of kin if a witch or wizard isn't buried with their wand, everyone knows that.

As if he had read her mind, Brienne's father squeezed her shoulder and said "You know they had to, Petal. If it gets us any closer to knowing what happened to her, then you know it was worth it."

He had a point. Brienne calmed at his words, and lifted the wand up to her face. She kissed the handle, and pink bubbles began to bloom from the tip. Brienne didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but her father laughed, and clapped her shoulder.

"It remembers you. Always a good back up, in case."

Brienne smiled, and wrapped the wand back up in the box, as if it were made of crystal. A back up? She couldn't consider using any other wand than her own. But this one held many memories for her- she has never seen it out of either her mother's hand or sticking out of her pocket.

Trying to gloss over the moment, she put the box containing her mother's wand with the Chocolate Box and her other gifts, and threw away all of the used wrapping paper. Her father started on the dinner, and Brienne occupied her time by checking out her new Wand Care Kit, and before long her wand was shiny, scratch-free and good as new. She thought of buffing up her mother's wand, but the idea of wiping away any evidence of her mother was unthinkable.

The hours passed, and by midday Brienne was dressed and helping her father with the dinner. There wasn't much help to be given, as Douglas had taken to making all of the vegetables and meat prepare themselves; at one point the plucked turkey danced a tango around the kitchen with the small chicken that would accompany it, leaving the two of them in stitches of laughter. Serge was perched on the door handle, watching over the proceedings with increased levels of disapproval. Brienne made some cranberry sauce, and set the extended table in the dining room with a table cloth and place settings.

By four 'o'clock, dinner was served, and the table was displayed with the juicy roasted turkey and chicken, balls of stuffing, Yorkshire puddings, tureens of buttered peas, carrots, sprouts, crispy roast potatoes and parsnips, chipolatas, and a gravy boat full of delicious, thick gravy, all made to perfection. It was, as with every year, scrumptious, and Brienne has purposefully not eaten since receiving her Chocolate Box in order to eat as much of the dinner as possible. She ate and ate, past the point that she was full, until she was satisfied. Her father kept up with her, although not with as much gusto. At the climax of their efforts, the turkey and chicken had been stripped of half of their meat, and all of the vegetables were gone save for a few potatoes. Brienne was slumped back in her seat, feeling much the same way as at Halloween dinner at Hogwarts, though much more full up and more bloated. Her father loosened his belt by a couple of notches, and Brienne unbuttoned her trousers to let her swollen stomach expand comfortably. They let their food go down for ten minutes before hefting the leftovers into the pantry and dumping the plates and platters into the sink.

They stayed up late, listening to the radio and drinking from bottles of non-alcoholic Butterbeer. When the clock struck ten and the radio fizzled out, Brienne heaved herself up and bid her father goodnight.

"Hold on," Douglas got up and set his bottle down, "I've got another gift for you."

Brienne couldn't understand why he had decided to show this to her at bedtime, but she followed as Douglas led the way up the stairs, through the trapdoor in the ceiling and into the attic, where Serge was kept.

The attic was small but dark and draughty, which was perfect conditions for their owl. Serge was sitting on his perch, staring into the corner with utmost contempt, and lazily closed his eyes when Douglas went over to scratch his head.

"I dashed out yesterday after you sent gifts to your friends," Douglas said, pointing over to the same corner that Serge had been staring at, "It's only right that you have an owl for yourself."

He went into the corner and returned with a small owl perched on his forearm. The bird was small, definitely a baby, and was about the size of a person's head. He had feathers of inky black and stormy grey and its eyes were a dark amber colour, staring and flashing at them with wide-eyed interest. Brienne gasped as the owl turned its gaze towards her and flapped its wings, and she was just about to resign herself to the fact that this would be yet another animal that averted itself from her, when the owl pushed off from her father's arm and settled nicely on her shoulder. Brienne froze, waiting for the owl to bite her ear or try to rip some of her hair out, but it didn't.

"He's newborn, only a few months old," Douglas said, "Most of the older owls were bought for presents, so I could only get you a young one. I hope that's alright."

"That's- wow. Thank you." Brienne didn't know what to say. She stared up at her new owl and laughed quietly, amazed at its gentle nature. Almost simultaneously to this, it began to lean on Brienne's head, as if for comfort.

"He likes you," Douglas commented, his hands in his pockets, "For Merlin's sake, don't let it get too attached to you straight away, or he'll think you're his mother."

But it seemed too late for that; the small male owl immediately nipped Brienne's ear affectionately and she stroked his feathers. He preened and twitched.

They set her new owl down next to Serge, who hopped a few inches away, disgusted. The new owl ruffled his feathers and closed his eyes. Brienne hugged her father,

"Thank you, Dad. He's lovely."

"I thought if I got a younger one then you'll bond easier. Cleverer owls can sense your anxiety, you know."

Brienne snorted, "Right."

They stayed in the attic for a while, Serge flying a couple of laps around the attic as if trying to impress their attention away from his new companion. But the new owl only had eyes for Brienne, and would hop slightly on the wooden beam in excitement as she scratched and stroked his smooth, dark feathers. It seemed to adore Brienne, and she was quickly beginning to return the feeling.

"You've got to decide on a name for him," Douglas muttered as he released Serge outside to stretch his wings, "You don't want him to answer to 'the owl.'"

Brienne's lips widened into a grin, "How about Nyx?"

"Nicks?"

"Nyx. N-Y-X. It's the name of the Greek Titan of the night. Because of his feathers."

"They are a pretty colour. Bedtime?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted. Goodnight, Nyx!"

They took the newly-named Nyx over to the window, where he took flight in the direction that Serge had gone.

"Where did you learn all about Greek Gods and things like that then?" Douglas asked as they ventured down to the first floor,

"I had a lesson at Beauxbatons about Ancient Magical Deities. It was part of the Ancient Magic syllabus."

"Ah." Douglas stretched his arms towards the ceiling and groaned.

"Goodnight, Dad," Brienne smiled, "Merry Christmas."

Douglas smiled and gathered his daughter in a squeezing hug, "Merry Christmas, darling."

It lasted slightly longer than their normal hugs, and Brienne knew he was thinking that he must be slightly pleased to have his daughter back permanently. She, personally, was torn.

They went to bed, and Brienne thought of owls, and wands, and messages from red-headed boys, before drifting into a blissful, dreamless sleep.


	15. The Investigation

Hi everyone! I hope you like it, and please review! You're finally getting some answers!

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 15**

The Investigation

Christmas Day passed in a flurry, and too quickly it was over. Brienne awoke on Boxing Day to the salty smell of frying bacon. She lay in bed for a moment, staring up at the speckled-white high ceiling, thinking that twelve hours later she would be lying there again, only that time with answers.

She sat up, and her vision was abruptly obscured by black feathers. Nyx had flown through her bedroom window in the night and had evidently made himself at home; there were a couple of owl droppings and some feathers littered on the floor, and Nyx himself nuzzled his owners face enthusiastically before sitting himself on her headboard.

"Nyx!" Brienne got up and pointed at one of the droppings, "What's this?"

Nyx shivered, not with fear or guilt, but with utmost excitement at the attention that he was receiving. He gave a soft but high-pitched hoot, before flapping over to Brienne and sitting on her shoulder. She grinned, unable to maintain any anger at her new pet, and quickly took him up to the attic where she fed him.

Returning to her room, she picked up her wand and attempted to Vanish the feathers and owl droppings; they had been learning how in Transfiguration in preparation for their O.W.L's, and she spent the next ten minutes waking up her brain and concentrating. When she had successfully cleaned up and gotten dressed, she went down to the kitchen, where her father was eating an egg and bacon sandwich, the yolk running down his chin and into his blond stubble. Brienne thought of Fred, and smiled.

"Mornin," he greeted, his voice muffled from the food in his mouth.

Brienne, who had picked up a sandwich from the tray on the counter, bit into it and replied in the same way.

They ate quietly, working their way through all of the sandwiches on the tray between them, standing, leaning on the counter. The day felt tense and formal, and Brienne was relishing it. They could have a proper Boxing Day tomorrow; for today was when she would get what she wanted. What she needed.

The day passed swiftly; Brienne occupied her time by reading her new books and training Nyx. The small owl was tested by seeing if he could deliver small objects across the room to Douglas; he did it easily, though would quickly snatch the objects back and give them back to Brienne, and would then quiver with anticipation as if waiting for praise. Brienne kept him at it until he eventually would wait until Douglas allowed him to return to her.

"How about you send him on an errand?" Douglas asked, groaning as he got up from the floor, Nyx excitedly picking up random objects from all over the room and dropping them at Brienne's knees, "He seems to have got the hang of it."

"I don't have anything I need to se- no, Nyx!" Brienne leapt up from the floor and swiped the wandmakers box from Nyx's grip. Thankfully, the box that contained her mother's wand wasn't damaged, but Nyx perched himself on the sofa headboard, his large ochre eyes full of sadness and trepidation.

Brienne pursed her lips and stroked her owl's glossy feathers. It was getting to the point where she could deny him nothing, her motherly instincts strongly taking her back to Beauxbatons, where she was constantly being protective over her younger cousin, Bernadette. She reminisced tenderly for a moment before gingerly taking her mother's wand up to her room, where she slid it safely into her bedside cabinet.

She then buckled down to her studies. She hadn't been initially planning on tackling her homework until slightly later in the holidays, but the alarming volume of what she had to do coupled with her nerves about Stanley Meadowes propelled her into practising her more difficult tasks. After practising the spells they had been learning in Charms and Transfiguration, she turned to Potions. She had had particular difficulty in making a Confusing and Befuddlement Draught in their last Potions lesson of the term, and was determined to perfect it, as Professor Snape had insisted that the effects, ingredients and method of the potion were all going to be in their O.W.L exam. Since Potions was Brienne's favourite subject, she was determined to perfect her technique and to get an 'Outstanding' in her results.

She was halfway through the potion making process, sprinkling some lovage leaves into her cauldron as her father entered, holding a teacup and saucer. He set it down onto the dining room table, which was spread with Brienne's copper cauldron and small bags of scurvy-grass, sneezewort and the hairs of an albino squirrel, along with a pestle and mortar.

"Are you alright about today?" Douglas asked quietly, watching as Brienne stirred her grass green concoction.

She paused, testing the texture of the potion (which was bubbly and smooth, as it was supposed to be) as an excuse not to answer straightaway, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Stanley will be here in about an hour for dinner," Douglas stated, "It's just the leftovers from yesterday and some gammon sandwiches."

Brienne smiled in response; she was deeply in concentration, heating her cauldron at exactly the right temperature. She knew he was trying to simultaneously soothe her and get her to finish up her Potion by the time that his friend arrived; the atmosphere would not be helped if the dining table was splattered with salamander blood.

Forty minutes later, Brienne filled a flask with her completed Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, infinitely happier with it than she was on her last attempt. She corked the flask, and ventured up to the attic, where both Serge and Nyx were lazily perched. Who to send? Nyx woke up, and gave another high-pitched hoot in greeting. Brienne couldn't help but grin. She attached a scroll of parchment to the flask, giving her name and the potion, and offered her arm to Nyx, who gladly hopped onto her arm and offered his leg.

"Take this to _Hogwarts_, OK?" Brienne said clearly, "Give it to Professor Snape."

Nyx strained his leg, as if reaffirming his ability to complete the request. Brienne attached the package, fighting off the unexpected and irrational emotion that flooded through her; her Nyx was going on his _first _delivery...

Minutes later, after she had set Nyx free to fly into the seasonably darkening sky, she turned to Serge, who had opened his eyes halfway to watch over the proceedings.

"You had better go with him and make sure he isn't ambushed by any hawks."

But Serge was already in flight by the time that Brienne finished speaking; it was apparent that she wasn't the only one that was protective of their new companion. She stood in the attic for a moment, listening to her father clang around in the kitchen, before shivering in the cold of the attic and went to get changed. Once she had meticulously scraped out the remnants of sneezewort from underneath her fingernails and changed out of her potion-splattered grey jumper into a deep red one, someone had knocked on the door.

She heard her harsh intake of breath, and walked silently to the top of the stairs, where she could see her father approach the door, wiping his hands on his apron. Brienne descended the steps, and jumped as she heard the roar of jovial laughter from the men on either side of the door as it swung open. Douglas swept the visitor into a manly hug, setting him down as Brienne joined them. Her father thrust an arm around her shoulder and drew her forwards as Stanley Meadowes shut the door behind him.

He was taller and thinner than Douglas, but had thick arms and his robes were on him snugly enough to display his lithe and lean figure. He had short and curly dark hair which fell over his eyebrows and ears, framing his face. He had prominent features, an easy smile and sharp brown eyes, and his face was fraught with frown lines, crows' feet and dimples. Stanley had his hands casually in his pockets as he smiled at Brienne, and suddenly she had the faintest feeling that she had met him before,

"Nice to meet you again, Brienne!" His voice didn't quite match his rugged appearance- it was light, airy and cheery, and it confirmed her suspicion.

Brienne smiled back, "You too," she said quietly.

"Come along to the living room, you two," Douglas walked jovially to the lounge.

Stanley followed immediately, Brienne noticing that he had taken his shoes off to reveal thick grey socks; he seemed comfortable in the house straight away, and it occurred to Brienne that he must visit often during term time.

As they entered the living room, Brienne almost laughed at the effort that her father had gone to. The dining table that had been recently spread with Brienne's potions ingredients was now heaving with plates of freshly made sandwiches, which were filled with gammon and mustard, gravy-soaked turkey and cranberry sauce, warmed-up potatoes, and some with the cheese that had not been finished after their cheese board at lunchtime. Jars of pickles and chutneys were squeezed into whatever spots were available. Stanley and Douglas were chattering away as they piled their plates high and sat at the dining table.

Brienne was slightly taken aback by this. She had expected this man to be foreboding, battle-worn, perhaps slightly older and more grizzled, certainly less friendly. He was a Head Auror, after all. Douglas had even told her that Stanley's childhood sweetheart, Dorcas, the mother of his son, was struck down during the First Wizarding War by You-Know-Who himself, and that he had never remarried. She expected him to be grim and gruff. But the only impression that came from Stanley Meadowes was one of calm and confident insight. Brienne didn't know if this information put her off, or at ease.

After she had piled her plate high (forgetting that she had had difficulty pulling on her trousers that morning) and sat down, occupying herself with a cheese sandwich as Stanley filled Douglas in on the goings on at the Ministry.

"Paul chose to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; course, he normally does come home but he knows how busy the Department have been looking for Black...awful business, Dougie, the Minister's at his wits' end."

"You weren't on your _own _yesterday Stan?" Douglas looked incredulous, "Surely the Minister allows Christmas leave?"

Stanley grinned, his eyes twinkling, "Ah, things are so much simpler in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Most Aurors were called out up North yesterday anyway; apparently there was a sighting of a skinny, hairy bloke sneaking into a cave in North Yorkshire. Rushed up there- it was only a tramp, not Black."

"Do you know if it was really him who snuck into Hogwarts on Halloween?" Douglas asked, glancing at Brienne.

Stanley caught this look, and answered the silent question, "If it wasn't Black, we don't know who it was. No Dementors sensed any entry into the grounds, obviously. It could just be one of the students playing a prank." he shrugged.

There was a moment of silence, as Stanley drank from his bottle of Butterbeer and Douglas finished his last mouthful of sandwich. Brienne shivered slightly; she did not like this talk of Sirius Black, it was a little too close to home. The idea of a murderer at Hogwarts was almost too frightening to comprehend.

Stanley set down his bottle and stuffed a hand in his pocket. He drew out a small pouch made of what appeared to be the skin of an animal.

"Do you remember my son, Brienne?" Stanley asked brightly, sinking his arm, elbow deep, into the pouch; Brienne thought he must have cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. She shrugged in response- she knew his face from somewhere...

Stanley took out a wooden box, not unlike a jewellery box, and opened it to reveal a stack of photographs. He rifled through them, stopping at one about halfway through the stack. He grinned, looking at the photo for a moment, and handed it to Brienne.

It was a photograph of two young children of around the age of five. One of them was a young girl with long, messy blonde hair cascading down her back, chocolate smeared around her beaming mouth, crumpled wrapping paper in her excited hands; it was undoubtedly Brienne. The boy that she had been sitting with had the same curly dark hair as his father and had eager green eyes; the children were sitting in that same living room, in front of that same Christmas tree that Brienne unwrapped her gifts under the day before. At seeing the child, Brienne felt a vague stirring of recognition, and her mind flashed to Hogwarts, where she assumed she must have seen this face also, without realising their history.

Stanley must have seen her eyes widen in recollection, as he supplied more information, "He's at Hogwarts aswell, Ravenclaw. The same year as you, I think."

Brienne thought back. She had lessons with Ravenclaws in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. She tried to match this boy's face with anybody she may have seen in those lessons, but she supposed that she had been either too preoccupied or absent-minded to ever notice.

She handed back the photograph, and Stanley tucked it carefully back into his box, which he then drummed his hands on. Brienne noticed wedding and engagement rings on his ring finger; she wondered why he was wearing them if he had never remarried, and then she realised he must have never taken them off.

As if he had read her mind or followed her eyes, Stanley cleared his throat and said, "My son is in the same position as you. Except, well- he knows what happened. My wife was strong, gritty, and extremely brave. She was killed by Voldemort himself...but she did take six Death Eaters along with her."

Both Brienne and Douglas gasped at Stanley's use of the name. He seemed completely unfazed, though there was a shade of sadness in his brown eyes. His eyes flickered between Brienne and her father, and continued.

"I knew your mother very well," he grinned at Douglas before returning his gaze to Brienne, "and she was best friends with Dorcas. I want to assure you that I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to her, and why."

"You mean you don't know already who did this to her?" Brienne felt a swooping sensation of disappointment in her stomach, and her shoulders slumped.

"We have a few ideas, but they're vague." Stanley muttered, "The Muggle neighbours were walking past and they said they heard a loud sound that they thought was a gunshot. Oh- a gun is a Muggle instrument that they use to shoot metal into each other, it makes a loud noise. Yeah, they thought they heard a gun go off, so they called the Muggle police before the French Ministry could get there. Of course it wasn't a gunshot; there wasn't a mark on your Mother, and the loud noise was undoubtedly the killer Disapparating."

Brienne was breathing extremely slowly and quietly- she didn't want any noises of any kind to drown out what Stanley was saying.

"So what are your few ideas?" she asked breathlessly.

Stanley shrugged, "The French Aurors said that they noticed a young boy who was standing outside the crime scene along with the Muggles from the neighbourhood as the Muggle police left. He was described to be tall, six feet at least, about sixteen, and shaking from head to foot. He looked terrified, apparently. They couldn't question him before he scarpered; there was no evidence that he's even a wizard."

Brienne tried not to let the disappointment show on her face, but then Stanley grinned cheekily and added, "_Until._"

"Yeah?"

"He was then spotted over a hundred miles away, in a Southern town. On the same day, by the same Auror who was following up a lead on a different case. There was no way that he could have gotten there so quickly unless-"

"Unless he Disapparated!" Brienne interrupted.

"No, unless he _Side-Along_ Apparated. He would be too young to know how to Apparate alone."

"So there were two wizards there..."

"At least."

"So did you question him? The boy?" Brienne was becoming even more breathless through her greed for information.

Stanley shook his head, "No. We've thought it through a lot, and we don't think that it was him."

"How? It was a Muggle village, and two wizards are there on the same day as Zéphyrine was-!" Douglas exclaimed, but he stopped the second before Stanley waved him down, still addressing Brienne,

"If you look at the crime scene evidence, everything- and I mean everything- indicates that your mother had anticipated the attack and that it was from somebody that she knew."

"What crime scene evidence?"

"Her last spells were offensive against the attacker. She did try to defend herself before but- Oh, I am sorry," he said, as Brienne closed her eyes in pain, "The place was a tip, too, they had quite a fight. We think that she anticipated the attack, because-"

"Because she had her stuff ready to go, I know that." Brienne said curtly.

"Yes and...Well, it was clear she wanted to protect you aswell, Brienne."

"Protect-?"

"She had all but welded your bedroom door shut. Nothing could be done to open it, not even the most powerful blasting spells. She didn't want the killer to know about you; there was no trace of you at all, no photographs around the house, which were all found in her suitcase. It was pretty obvious that she didn't think either of you would ever return to that house, whatever the outcome of the duel."

"Someone she knew." Douglas stated weakly, in disbelief.

This information waved over Brienne; so her mother had been betrayed. She had tried to protect her. She _had_ protected her, in her last act. She tried to prevent any tears from emerging, as waves of love for her mother washed over her. Douglas opened his mouth as if to protest, but made a sound of understanding in its place.

"Not someone she knew, but someone she...?"

"Someone she _knew_," Stanley completed the sentence, "Someone that she had encountered in her career as an Auror for the French Ministry. Probably someone that she had arrested."

He looked between the father and daughter, who exchanged a glance of shock. Stanley cleared his throat again,

"We think- and it's really the only possibility there is- that the person who killed you mother either Disapparated away separately from within the house, or-"

"Or was the person that took the boy back to his village." Douglas supplied, resting his chin on his clasped hands.

"Or both."

Brienne let out a large breath, "What are you doing to find out which it is?" she thought she was being slightly rude to her father's closest friend, but she was not sorry for it. Stanley and Douglas both seemed to completely understand in any case.

"Well, we're not legally allowed to interrogate the boy anyway, until he comes of age."

"What?"

"He's only sixteen, and both of his parents stress that he didn't leave his home that day. It's our word against theirs. It's in the hands of the French Ministry to decide what to do when the boy turns seventeen."

Brienne felt her whole body tighten, "But you don't think it's him anyway."  
"No. And guess what?"

"What?"

Stanley grinned, looking younger than he must have been, "We _are_ allowed to find out who did. And that's what we're doing."

Brienne felt herself relax and smile for the first time. Stanley gave off a general feeling of experience and confidence, and took a bite of a sandwich that had been previously forgotten. Brienne looked down at her plate- she had only eaten one of the four sandwiches on her plate. She no longer felt hungry. She felt exhilarated, like she had taken a hot shower after becoming filthy.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," Brienne stood, fighting the urge to bow to Stanley like she had always been taught at her old school, "Thank you. Really- _thank you._" Now she fought the urge to hug him. "Goodnight."

"Take some sandwiches with you," Douglas said softly. He stood and hugged his daughter gently, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Brienne. I'm glad I have been of some help." Stanley stayed sitting, his eyes glinting with some sort of emotion.

Brienne trod up the stairs, entering her bedroom to see Nyx quivering on her headboard, as he had done twelve hours previously, returned from his trip. She beamed, shakily stroking her owl affectionately. She stood there for a moment, the lamps still on, not tired in the slightest. She considered going back downstairs, and then she turned to go to the bathroom.

As she crossed the landing, she heard hushed voices downstairs, the old friends still chatting. A curious sensation came over her, and before she could comprehend why she was doing it she had quietly gone halfway down the stairs, within earshot of the men.

"—don't think I shared the whole story." Stanley was saying.

"Doesn't matter, Stan. I don't mind if you want to leave out the more gruesome details. She's only fifteen."

"No- I mean- it's important. I should tell you."

There was a pause, "Go on, then." Douglas prompted cautiously. Brienne froze, noticing her breathing slow in a similar way that it had earlier.

Stanley cleared his throat for the third time, "Well, you know I mentioned that Zéphyrine had put all of Brienne's photographs and such in her suitcase, ready to leave?"

"Yes?"

"Well, when we got to the scene...the Muggle police didn't touch it; it was found that way..."

"What?" Douglas asked, although he sounded like he already knew where he was going with it.

"They counted five shapes of dust on the tables and the walls where she had taken off the photo frames."

"_And_?"

"The suitcase was open, Dougie. And...and there were only four photos in there, mate. One was gone."

"They took one." Douglas was breathless now, raspy in horror.

Brienne wished she hadn't gone back downstairs.


	16. Reeling

Hey guys! Thank you for your excellent reviews, I do hope you enjoy this chapter! DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts or any HP related things, other than Brienne and my other OC's. 

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 16**

Reeling

Brienne's heart was pumping. She thought the volume of it would surely alert her father and his friend to her presence. Nausea churned in her stomach, and her sandwich dinner felt like it wanted to make a reappearance. The words that had just been spoken imprinted themselves into her brain. Brienne couldn't breathe.

As the silence in the living room continued, she wondered whether to make her presence known. But the air caught in her throat, and she barely got to the bathroom in time as she saw the evening in reverse. Brienne groaned; she hated vomiting. She bent over the toilet for a moment until she felt less queasy, before slowly standing upright and looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her dark blue eyes looked tired, her hair hanging, greasier than when she had last checked, her skin pale and clammy. Brienne's outer appearance seemed to reflect how she felt inside.

She strung up her hair in a rope with a stray band which was on the side of the sink, brushed her teeth and washed her face. The going-to-bed routine was a welcome distraction. The water on her hands was cold, and she shook as she dried them. She slowly gulped down air as her newly-emptied stomach clenched hollowly.

Brienne leant against the sink, her chin down on her chest, until she could hear mumbled conversation downstairs again. This seemed to spur her into movement, and she walked into her room, dragging her feet, holding her emotions at bay until she slumped onto her bed.

She tried to comprehend what she had just learnt. Not just in the last ten minutes, but in the last hour or so. She tried to sum it all up in her mind; how her mother had been attacked and killed by somebody that she had arrested in her old years as an Order member. How this person may have an accomplice in a sixteen year old boy. How her mother had anticipated this attack somehow, and was ready for flight when the assailant- or assailants- swooped down upon her and cut her life short.

Right then, in that moment, she desperately wanted to go back downstairs and tell them that she had eavesdropped. To hear the words of comfort that her father would surely employ in this time of need, feel Stanley's sure confidence that they would find the killers before they set out on their next mission; actually, she would have preferred alternatives as to where her missing photograph had gone.

Perhaps her mother stashed it somewhere else in a precaution, in case her suitcase was destroyed or damaged in the attack? Maybe she hid it for her daughter with a message inside? Maybe it wasn't a photograph of Brienne that was missing- maybe it was one of her mother that the killer wanted to keep as a trophy. But there was a niggling sensation in her head that told her not to kid herself. If Stanley, a veteran Auror, had come to the conclusion that the killer was now after her, then she had no reason not to believe him.

She noticed that her hands were shaking again. She buried them in her hair to steady them, and she concentrated on nothing but breathing deeply and keeping her hands still. Why was this happening to her? What had she ever done to anybody? What acts of evil could she ever have committed in order to deserve having her mother taken from her and then be pursued herself?

Brienne sat in silence for a while until she heard the click of the front door, signalling Stanley's departure, before she collapsed onto her back. She waited to see if her father would come straight upstairs to bed. When he didn't, Brienne surmised that he must be doing exactly as she was doing: sitting, absorbing, and reeling. Some part of her expected Douglas to come straight up to discuss this with her, but then she remembered that he didn't know she had overheard. Should she tell him? Should she keep it to herself? Which would worry her father more? No, she would not tell him. The last thing she wanted was to create an uneasy dynamic between them.

She then heard a creak on the stairs, quickly followed by another. Her father. Brienne hastily turned out the lights and stuffed herself under the covers. Douglas pushed open the door after a few seconds with a barely audible squeak and poked his head in, wanting to see if his daughter was awake. Brienne's eyes were tight shut and her breathing was deep. He stood there for a long time, silently, and Brienne knew that they were wondering the same thing: whether or not circumstances would rip them apart again, wondering to what extent things would change from then on in.

Wondering whether Brienne would be there, safe and sound, in a years' time.

What would become of her life now? Would she always be looking over her shoulder, worried for the life of her father, or her friends, or herself? Would she have to continue pretending like she was recuperating to her friends, to her father, to her teachers at Hogwarts? And she could no longer pretend about one thing- she did have feelings for George. Feelings that would have to take a backseat to her fear, to the fact that her friends may no longer be safe if they associated with her. She clenched her fists, and tried to inwardly tell herself not to overreact.

Why on Earth would this person, or people, be after her now? Surely they committed their supposed act of 'revenge' by killing her mother, by having her ripped from this world; what would they have against Brienne at all? Or did they want any and all residue of Zéphyrine Auvray destroyed, a clean cut? Was having the daughter of their prey- an innocent- alive, too much of a temptation?

By the time that Douglas had closed the door quietly and tiptoed down the landing to his own room, Brienne had closed her hands over her mouth to muffle her racking sobs. Tears gushed down her cheeks, her face swollen and red, and her body shook as- for the first time in weeks- she completely broke down. She buried her head in her pillows as her hands weren't doing a good enough job; she inhaled deeply, and only smelt her father's home. She didn't want to _be_ here, or even at Hogwarts- she wanted to go _home_, in France, where her Mother was, where her life was.

But that couldn't happen. Her Mother was gone, forever, never coming back. Her old home probably still bore the scars of that last, fatal fight. She was never going to go back there. This was her home now. Here, and Hogwarts. The idea of going back to school with Fred, Angelina and George and taking her exams was almost laughable.

Then, without any conscious decision or thought, she slid her torso a little to the side so she could reach her bedside cabinet. There, she took out the gift that she had received the day before, and held it in her hand. Her mother's wand. At her touch, she felt warmth in her fingertips, an encouraging, empowering warmth. It was unlike the familiar connection she felt with her own wand, but something peculiar, like it understood her pain and wanted to reinforce something else. Something like safety, or calm. Brienne sniffed, shuddered, but no more tears came.

She lay like this- arm lolling off the bed, her face puffy, damp and red, holding her mother's wand- for the rest of the night.


	17. Back Again

Hi! Thank you very much for your reviews everyone! I'm glad you enjoyed chapter sixteen! Please review!

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 17**

Back Again

The rest of Brienne's Christmas holiday passed quickly and without major incident. After that fateful evening, Stanley had not returned to the house, but owls came every few days bearing letters for Douglas, which he would read with a blank expression before either crumpling them in his pocket or burning them in the fireplace.

This was one of the few very subtle changes in his behaviour. For one, Brienne noticed that had begun to tap his pocket habitually to make sure that his wand was there, or that the somewhat nearby sound of the London traffic had quietened slightly, which made Brienne suspect that Douglas may have performed some kind of protective charm around the house. He now did not leave Brienne in the house alone at all, and he duplicated food supplies before they ran out so they didn't have to venture to the nearest Muggle supermarket.

Other than this however, Douglas was cheerful and festive. He never betrayed any fear or stress over what had happened; in fact, he acted as if Stanley had never come over at all. He created delicious and hearty meals every day, and he talked and joked as his confused and sombre daughter wondered whether or not to play along. Her weight rose, and he performed enlargement charms on her clothes so that they would fit.

New Year's Eve went by uneventfully, with the two eating, pulling crackers and listening to other people celebrating on the radio. Brienne went to bed before midnight, kissing her father on the cheek and brushing a paper crown off of her head. They still hadn't spoken about what had been revealed five days before; what Brienne had been supposed to hear or not.

Her own behaviour changed dramatically. She had still not come to terms with what she had learned, and had pushed the terrified thoughts to the back of her mind whenever they threatened to surface. Her breathing would become shallow, her heart would pound and her hands would shake, so she would try to forget about it. She felt incredibly foolish because of this; her mother hadn't sacrificed her life so that Brienne could panic whenever she saw somebody pass their house, so that she could shudder at the thought of going outside unprotected. This wasn't like her; she wasn't the bravest of people, but she had never been a coward. But whenever she tried to fight the fear, the magnitude of everything overcame her and she just felt tired. It was all too much. She was too young for this. She wanted to be tucked into her bed and told that everything was going to be alright.

The one beacon that she looked forward to in the future was returning to Hogwarts, as she associated the place with a state of being completely unlike the way she was now; happy, laughing, occupied. With friends who didn't know anything about this. When she thought about Angelina and Fred's flirtatious and joyful banter, of George's wide smile that always looked taken aback, of Paisley and her sure and soft words, she could not help but feel her heart slow and her breathing even out. Surely, when she went back, things would change. She would stop needing to think about this. This idea was what warmed Brienne at night and allowed her to sleep; that and the strange comfort that the touch of her mother's wand brought her at her most stressed.

On the morning that she was due to return to Hogwarts, Douglas woke Brienne with a cup of tea and a tray of crumpets. She was sprawled over the bed, with her left arm hanging over the side. At the sound of Douglas pushing the door shut behind him with his foot, Brienne stirred and sat up, slotting her mother's wand back into her bedside cabinet discreetly.

"Good morning," she said groggily.

Douglas smiled, his eyes crinkling up as he did so, "Morning, my little girl."

She cringed as he set the tray on her lap and set the tea down. He always reverted to little-girl treatment on their last morning together; she used to like it, but now felt like it was a little too much. A little hypocritical. She picked up the first buttery, jammy crumpet and took a bite.

"Are you ready to go?" Douglas asked, casting his eye over the room. He strode over to the window and opened the curtains; new, fresh light spilled into the room.

"Does it look like I am?" Brienne replied, squinting up at her father as he looked around.

"Ah, it's not that bad," he heaved her trunk from underneath her bed and opened it.

Most of its contents were still in there, but some items of clothing and books had been pulled unceremoniously out. Brienne watched in silence as her father flicked his wand a few times and some of her belongings flew from under her bed or from elsewhere in the house to land in her trunk.

"There. Done!"

Brienne gave a small smile as she got out of bed and stretched.

"Well, we'd better get our skates on; the train leaves...oh, in about an hour and a half." Douglas added.

"OK, I'll get ready."

"Right."

Douglas picked up the tray and exited the room, still holding his wand in one hand, rubbing it between his fingers absentmindedly. At the click of her door, she slumped back on the bed for a moment, raking her fingers through her hair. Time to face the music. She was going back to Hogwarts.

Brienne wandered around the room, straightening the curtains and dusting the surfaces of cabinets with her hand. She looked out of the window; the Sun was softly falling, delicate against the days-old snow. The sky was cloudless. She heard her father clattering about downstairs, and she felt a pang of sadness. She felt cheerless about leaving, despite having looked forward to this morning for over a week.

As they prepared to leave, Brienne shuffled down the stairs, her hair and teeth brushed, face washed, and dressed for the cold weather. She wore a crisp white blouse and black trousers underneath her cloak, with both her wand and her mother's wand stuck in separate pockets about her person. Nyx was excitedly shuddering in his cage, Serge apparently pleased he didn't have to go back to Hogwarts any time soon. Her trunk and shoulder bag sat at the foot of the stairs, and Douglas sat ready in the living room, staring sadly at the Christmas tree in the corner.

"We'd better go now, Dad. It's not long, now." Brienne said quietly, for some reason not wanting to jar her father from his thoughts.

He looked up at her, blinking, and stood. He straightened his tartan tweed suit and put his hands in his pockets- making sure his wand was there- and then he strode across the room to gather his daughter in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his chest and smelled his clothes. Dust, tweed, crumpets. He rested his chin on her blonde head and closed his eyes. What was said in that hug had been brewing for days.

The distant sound of a car horn stirred them, and they separated. Douglas sniffed and Brienne turned to dab at her damp eyes. They both sighed simultaneously, and Douglas gripped Brienne's shoulder,

"Brienne, don't be worried. I know we both learned a lot about what's happened. But don't think for a second that you're not safe, or that both Stanley and I wouldn't go to the ends of the Earth to make sure that whoever did this is faced with justice."

Brienne was surprised; for a moment, it seemed like Douglas was referring to the more dangerous news, the news that she wasn't supposed to know. But she knew her father; he was covering all viewpoints, making sure that she didn't have to worry about a thing. He was placing all worry and responsibility on himself.

"I'm not." She lied, her gaze flickering to the floor, "What is there to worry about?"

Douglas pursed his lips, "Nothing, nothing at all."

They stood in silence for a short moment before bustling out into the hall, where Douglas cast a charm on the trunk so that it was lighter to carry. Brienne hitched her bag onto her shoulder and swept her gaze around the house. She'd miss the burgundy walls, the messy kitchen and the old feel of the place. Douglas lifted the trunk and braced it against his torso, now half the weight it was, and opened the front door. She put on a thick coat to cover her cloak, picked up Nyx's cage and followed her father out of the door.

They Side-Along Apparated to Kings Cross from a small alleyway down the road from the house; they slipped a little on the ice as they appeared at one of the more popular Apparition points a few hundred yards from the station. There were many other families and groups popping out of thin air at sparing intervals, sporting trunks or just stuffed bags or suitcases. Brienne and her father made sure they had their belongings and casually stepped out of the dark alleyway and onto the street. The air was dim because of the thick, dark clouds overhead and Londoners magical and Muggle alike were shivering and pulling scarves and coats tightly around themselves.

Douglas gripped Brienne's wrist tightly and cast his eye through the crowd; hundreds of people commuting, shopping and going about their lives. Brienne didn't quite know where to look, and she felt awfully exposed as they carefully manoeuvred around the ice on the ground. Was somebody watching them? It felt like it. Douglas' face took on that same blank expression, and their steps spontaneously picked up. Her heart pounded as they entered the station.

They piled Brienne's luggage onto a trolley and made their way to Platform 9 and ¾. Nyx was hooting loudly, trying to convey his alarm and surprise at the new surroundings. Brienne began to feel calmer being indoors, with a smaller crowd and Nyx's endearing hoots. She looked through the throng to see if she could see any of her friends; the twins, or Paisley. She could see a blur of red hair, but it was long and frizzy.

"This way." Douglas muttered, guiding her to Platforms' nine and ten. Brienne knew very well where they were going, but it helped for her father to diffuse the tension.

They eventually came to the stone wall between the platforms, and they steadied their trolley. A clock overhead displayed that they had fifteen minutes before the train would leave. Douglas released her wrist to wrap his arm around her shoulders, bracing her, as they ran forward just after another couple. A couple of seconds later, they stepped out onto the platform.

The scarlet train stood majestically on the tracks, steam billowing up to their knees. There were many parents and family members surging in and out of the platform giving damp goodbyes to their children, most of whom were young. Students, some of which were already wearing their Hogwarts robes, were heaving their luggage onto the train and finding their friends through the horde. Nyx began to squeak loudly as his cage became obscured through the steam.

"I'm here, Nyx!" Brienne hoisted his cage up and soothed her owl, his black feathers standing on edge a little from fear. He squeaked as if in indignation and relief, and Douglas laughed.

"You'll have your hands full with him." He called over the horn of the train and the bustle of the throng.

"It's alright, baby," Brienne cooed, as they pushed through the thinning crowd to get to one of the doors.

She placed Nyx and hoisted her trunk onto the small entrance passageway, and placed one foot on the train so that the door wouldn't swing shut. She turned to her father. He stood, steam swirling around him, his hands in his pockets, smiling at her. Suddenly tears burned her eyes, and she didn't want to leave. They would both be so worried without the other. Wondering if the other was safe.

"I love you, Daddy." She blurted out, unable to restrain herself from adding the more childish name.

"I love you too, Petal. Goodbye for now."

And they were in each other's arms again, briefly, unrestrainedly. She heard her father inhale deeply, and she got one last squeeze before the train conductor blew his whistle, signalling the impending departure of the Express. They released each other and Brienne quickly got onto the train and shut the door behind her. She stood at the door and waved goodbye, as she saw that a few other students were doing up and down the train; the Express slowly slid down the platform. She hung from the door window, catching the last glimpses of her father as he watched the train pick up speed. She waved, and withdrew from the window as the train turned a corner.

It felt strangely nostalgic as she walked down the train; it felt like several years ago that she first was travelling to Hogwarts, instead of several months. She felt somewhat the same, if she replaced the feeling of depression with fear. It was almost as if she were going to enter a compartment and sit with Luna Lovegood. A few minutes after she began searching for a compartment, she heard a familiar Scottish voice calling from behind,

"Brienne!"

She turned, and saw Paisley Hamilton waving from a booth a small distance away. Her chocolate-coloured hair had been curled over the Christmas period, and was wearing some trendy Muggle clothing that no doubt had been presents. Glamorous emerald studs were in her ears. Brienne rushed over, finding herself beaming. They hugged, and stuffed Brienne's trunk in the overhead rack. Amy was sitting by the window, her auburn head as equally curly as her sister's. Brienne smiled at both of them as they slumped onto the seats.

"How was your _Christmas_?" Paisley exclaimed, patting her arm.

"Good, good," Brienne replied quietly, averting her eyes for a moment, "What about you?"

"Great!" Paisley said, as if she had been waiting to say it, "Mum and Dad got me some curlers and- oh, right. Um, they're like round brushes to curl your hair with."

Most of what she had said had gone over Brienne's head, but politely listened as Paisley continued, "And loads of clothes, and we went for this lovely meal at this place in the city."

"That sounds nice!"

"Well, my parents can't cook to save their lives. Except for haggis, which, I'm sorry, I _was not _having. There's nothing like roast turkey and brussels."

"Oh, I know. My Dad cooked all day."

"What did you get?"

_A death threat. _"Oh, some books. I loved the one you sent me."

"That was great. And thank you for the dress robes! I had to explain to Mum and Dad what they were. They look really nice on me, actually."

They talked for a long while about the various gifts they had received and what they had done over the holidays; Paisley cried with laughter when Brienne showed her George's Christmas letter, and Amy gave an unexpected monologue about how her group of three other girlfriends pitched in together to buy her a new broomstick for Christmas, and how she was planning on building up her Quidditch skills before she would try out for the Hufflepuff team in her third year.

"Not a very expensive one, but it's still my first ever broom!"

"Oh, listen to this," Paisley gushed when Amy returned to her new book, "Guess who sent me a box of chocolates for Christmas?"

"The twins? They sent me some." At remembering this, Brienne rooted in her bag for the Replenishing Chocolate Box, which she had barely put down in the last few days.

"No, but close- Lee!"

"Lee Jordan?"

"The dreadlocked one! He sent me this heart-shaped box of little chocolates. He said it was because he lives near Diagon Alley so he could grab them on a whim. But I'm not stupid- I remember reading about Love Potions in the library, and these chocolates smelled like lavender and cinnamon, so I didn't eat them."

"When did you have to read about _Love_ Potions?" Amy asked sceptically,

"Your favourite smell is lavender?" Brienne asked, wrinkling her nose.

"They could have been cinnamon flavoured chocolates, I suppose," Paisley shrugged, "But I'm not falling for that cheap trick. I know there's some place in Knockturn Alley where you can get old love potions and food filled with it."

"But Lee Jordan sent you a _Love_ Potion!"

"I know! He wants me to love him then, apparently."

The conversation lifted Brienne's mood far higher than she could have expected. She felt thrust back into the world of school and gossip, and being a teenager; it reminded her not to try and be more grown up than she actually was. It also reminded her that she would soon see George and Fred again, for the first time in weeks. For the first time since George's disastrous letter, since his acknowledgement of his possibly romantic intentions. They both were, in fact, on the train at the moment. They might even be looking for her. A strange swirl of nerves and excitement whirled through her, and even still she couldn't wait to be back in school, to forget about the calamity of things that she had learned.

They nattered for the next couple of hours, during which they released Nyx from his cage and he took a very odd dislike to Amy, odd being because he had seemed almost unable to dislike anything. They talked about, in turn, Brienne getting her mother's wand for Christmas, the difficulties of Paisley's parents being Muggles and not being able to do things in a more efficient, magical way, and Amy's internal debate about which Quidditch position she would most prefer to play in. The lunch trolley passed and they bought handfuls of chocolate and salty snacks so as to not exhaust Brienne's box further.

As the day wore on, the Weasley twins did not find them if they had looked; Brienne imagined them strangely opening and shutting compartment doors wordlessly in search of her, purposefully puzzling the students within. Lee did walk past once, causing all three girls to go silent, but he apparently did not see them (if his second passing without noticing them was to be believed).

When the sky outside began to get dark and it wasn't long until they arrived, Paisley and Amy closed the open screen to their compartment and changed into their Hogwarts robes, yellow ties and all. Brienne, already wearing her robes mostly, put on her Gryffindor tie and brushed her hair again. She put Nyx back into his cage and made sure she had everything.

"I'm glad I don't have to go over the lake in this weather," Brienne quipped as it began to sleet.

"It was a disaster when Amy started," Paisley muttered, righting her hair, "She almost fell out of her boat and got her whole sleeve wet. She was half dripping through her Sorting."

"Something pulled me in!"

They gathered the immediate belongings that they could carry and made a head start to the nearest door. As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, they could feel several other students jostling around them excitedly, their owls and cats squawked loudly. The train came to a definite stop, and the three girls spilled out onto the platform. The ground was slightly icy, and Amy slipped, her arms flailing wildly.

Brienne beamed, and turned to see the school. Hogwarts loomed over them, large and stately and warm-looking, with some orange lights flickering in the towers. She felt an unmistakeable sense of safety.

And then she heard them.

"Come on you lot, it's only ice, it's only frozen water. Look, whoosh! I'm skating!"

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Fred and George, shouting and terrifying the first years. Just as she remembered them. For a quick moment, she forgot everything that she had been worrying about. She was, well, not home. But the closest thing she had to it. She may not be completely safe, she may not be completely happy, but she was content. And it was the best that she could have ever hoped for.


	18. The Wind and the Warm

Thank you very much for reviewing! Please review this one!

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 18**

The Wind and the Warm

If Brienne was ever worried about finding a distraction after returning to Hogwarts, she found one in the study leading up to her OWLs. Having not expected to take exams for at least another year at Beauxbatons, Brienne found herself searching her brain through the fog of recent events for everything that she had learned in the last four years that could aide her in her studies. The rate of homework and the difficulty of lessons mounted, and the effort she needed to exert every evening to finish that days' load of homework left her exhausted to the point where she would fall asleep almost instantly when she went to bed. She had never worked so hard in her life.

The same could be said for her companions. She didn't see Paisley for a week after they returned to Hogwarts except for Divination lessons, during which they spent the entire lesson poring through books in order to translate the contents of their new dream diaries into anything noteworthy. Angelina now went to bed even later than Brienne after tirelessly working through Quidditch strategies with Oliver Wood after all of her own homework was finished. As for Fred and George, the girls were surprised to see that even they concentrated a little more in lessons; that their homework was almost never late and was almost always to the standard that was needed. It took an entire week for them to properly relate their Christmas holidays to each other; or in Brienne's case, an abridged version.

Regardless of this, Brienne relished being back. Despite the lack of time she had spent with her friends since arriving back at Hogwarts, it was still more time with them that she had had of late. They were all stressed with their studies, but that hadn't changed them; they brought the same release and joy to Brienne that they had a month before. This, coupled with the concentration on her work, was the welcome distraction that she had been hoping for.

A couple of Saturdays after they had returned to school, Brienne, the twins and Angelina had stayed in the Great Hall after lunchtime with their books. Most of the other students were either keeping warm in their dormitories or were braving the cold for a snowball fight out in the grounds.

"I don't know why they can't give us a break, _just_ for the weekends." Fred muttered bitterly. He put his quill down and flexed his hand before picking up his sheet of parchment, "Snape doesn't read our homework anyway, just gives us all P's because of what house we're from."

"That's not true." Brienne said, her eyes still on her essay, "I generally get Exceeds Expectations or Acceptable in Potions."

"Not all of us have pretty faces, Frenchy." George grumbled, his voice quiet from lack of use.

"Except for Angelina." Brienne flashed a grin.

Angelina looked up from her Transfiguration homework, her eyes cloudy, apparently not having followed the conversation, "What?"

"We were just talking about how gorgeous you were," Brienne said breezily, dipping her quill in an inkpot, "And why, according to Fred and George, that is what matters when Professor Snape is marking our work."

"He's an eyes man, I reckon," Fred piped up, "he's a sucker for your navy blues."

Angelina looked between the two of them, bags underneath her own deep brown eyes, "It's fascinating the discussions that can arise from sleep deprivation. The correct phrase is baby blues."

"She's been spending too much time using big words," George said, having lost interest in his homework and was stretching his arms.

This brought the atmosphere of a break to the group, who all put their quills down. At gathering their books and papers, four silver goblets of pumpkin juice materialised in front of them. As they put away their homework for later, they settled back into catch-up chatting.

As Angelina revealed how Harry Potter, their star player whom had lost his broom the term before, had received a Firebolt as a Christmas present, Brienne watched them all as she relaxed her brain. She thought about how strange it was that so much could change in one aspect of her life and, yet, so little could in another. Fred and George looked the same as they did on the day they departed from Hogwarts; well-built, wide shouldered, cheeky grins, dimples in the cheeks, bright hazel-green eyes, freckles. They were wearing matching jumpers, as were made by their mother. Fred's eyes flickered towards Angelina far more often than was normal, and George only looked at Brienne when he was talking to her. They were both excitedly jumping up and down in their seats in joy at the news of their Seekers' new broom.

Angelina, who had not gone home for the holidays, had barely changed either. Long, glossy black locks, rich coffee coloured skin. She was tall, svelte, but sturdy and strong, with a heart-shaped face, big, shining brown eyes and full lips. She was sharing an easy smile with the three of them as they chattered.

As she mostly preferred to do, Brienne leant her crossed arms on the table and listened to them.

"How on Earth did Lee manage to even get those?" Angelina asked, staring at Fred with disbelief.

"Merlin knows. All he said to me was that it was a place in Knockturn Alley and it got them for a good price," Fred gushed, his head on one of his hands.

"Oh, well that explains it. You'd never be able to buy Love Potions anywhere else at the age of sixteen."

"Or send them by owl-order."

"Paisley was stunned," Brienne said for the fifth time, "She'd never have eaten them. I don't know why Lee would go so far as to think she would."

"It might have been like a flirty joke," Angelina proffered, "Like 'I fancy you, I'm willing to go to great lengths-"

"No." George shook his head and Brienne made a face.

Fred gave a short laugh, "I don't doubt that he fancies her...but then again, Lee fancied Bree on the train back to London, didn't he?"

Brienne froze, and George frowned as if he had only just remembered the catastrophic scene that had led to her blowing up on the train ride. Angelina shot a gaze between the three of them, "He _what_?"

"He didn't fancy me, he was just being himself." Brienne spoke in the quietest voice she could manage, "He was only flirting."

This brought on an awkward pause in the conversation, with Angelina looking at each of them in turn, waiting for them to finish the story. Brienne glanced at George, who gulped down his pumpkin juice, and Fred began to twirl his wand between his fingers. Brienne mouthed "I'll tell you later" to Angelina as a bowl of crisps appeared between them on the table, which the boys seized by the handful.

"I can't believe they're making us do this much work _and _expect us to play well," Fred returned to his original train of thought, "We have a game with Ravenclaw a couple of weeks from today. _That's_ Snape's tactic: wear us all out so we lose against those swots."

Brienne rolled her eyes and returned to her essay as the other three began to discuss Quidditch. She was, in fact, relishing the amount of work she had to do; it meant that she was occupied. She couldn't understand her friend's exasperation; they, at least, had something to look forward to. They didn't understand that to her, there was far more to life than Quidditch. They had that thing in their lives where they could escape the world for a couple of short hours. What could she do in her own time while they were doing that?

Plan essays. Write essays. Eat. Cry. Think. Cry. She always tried to distract herself before she got further than the third step, despite her growing size, with the knowledge that distraction came easily whenever she cared to look into her book bag.

But nothing could distract her from the thoughts and memories that weighed her down in moments of calm; the journeying from one lesson to the next, the waiting for her friends to come back from Quidditch practise after finishing her homework, the first few minutes of dinner in which everyone served themselves. They were all quiet moments when panic seized her, when she heard a little voice in her head tell her that she wasn't quite safe anymore.

She tried to suppress these irrational thoughts; of course she was safe at Hogwarts, nobody was going to smite her in her bed, drag her into the Common Room to make her friends watch while they cruelly challenged an underage witch. She wasn't going to die; she had her father and Stanley on her side. There was a good chance that nobody was ever going to find her, if they were even looking.

Even if they weren't waiting.

At times like those, the walls of Hogwarts- magical and stone, invisible and tangible- seemed thinner and as delicate as a sheet of ice. Over the weeks that passed, Brienne tried to ignore the growing emotions and fatigue that seemed to battle within her, and power through it. It is what her mother must have, and would have done.

"What are you thinking about, Brienne?" Angelina asked lazily, her head resting against her knees, quill brushing over her parchment absently.

Brienne looked up from her own page from where she had paused in a sentence ten minutes before. She couldn't think of a straight answer.

It was the evening before Gryffindors' Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. An hour before, Angelina, Fred and George had arrived back from their last practise session before the game, all seeming satisfied with their strategies and that this game would perhaps be less catastrophic than their last. The five of them, including Lee, were sat around the fire, finishing that days' batch of work; Angelina was sat on the floor, leaning on Fred's knees, and George and Lee had been peeking at one another's Herbology essay from where they sat in front of Brienne.

"I'm fine," Brienne's voice croaked, her throat sticky from being silent for most of the evening.

George turned to face her from the floor and nudged her leg with his shoulder, "Are you fine enough to finish my homework? Pretty please?"

She raised an eyebrow and stared at him. He had a wide smile on his face, the glow from the fire lighting up his hair to a deep shade of gold. She couldn't help but grin back.

"Ah, but what shall you give _her _in return?" Lee asked, his voice naturally louder and more demanding than the others.

"Eternal servitude."

"And snog supply."

"Shut up!"

"I'm going for a walk outside," Brienne muttered and stood as they all laughed, "See you in a while."

"A walk? It's bloody freezing outside!" Fred called as she climbed out of the portrait hole, her bag and homework left on the armchair that George quickly occupied.

So Lee knew about the kiss. And if he knew, Fred certainly did. She'd herself told an excitable Angelina by letter over the Christmas holidays. That meant that everyone knew. Did it really mean so little to him that he'd tell his brother and friend, so that they could laugh about it? Humiliation simmered in her stomach and made her feel sick. How could he?

As she descended the steps into the Entrance Hall, Brienne told herself to calm down. Of course he told Lee and Fred, they were his friends, just as Angelina and Paisley were hers. Of course Lee would bring it up and try to make it easier for everyone to deal with- that was just him- despite how insensitive and awkward he could be about it. It wasn't even a real kiss, it was accidental! Even as she told herself this, her heart hammered as she pushed open the doors to the grounds and stepped outside.

Not only was it freezing, there were powerful winds and overcast skies. The sky was a blanket of thick dark clouds, the orange rays of the setting sun barely shining through. The Whomping Willow thrashed, partly from the wind and partly from its own fury. The trees of the Forbidden Forest seemed to be straining to stay upright. She could distantly see Hagrid pulling the drying line for his massive clothes into his Hut as they threatened to fly away.

Brienne felt a fleeting wish that she had brought a jacket with her, as her thick uniform jumper didn't do much to deter the icy winds. Before long, she was standing by the Lake, the usually still surface rippling with the gusts. She stood precariously on the roots of a nearby Beech tree, which she leant on with one hand.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the wonderful fresh scent of the trees as the wind picked up in speed and intensity. It was strangely therapeutic, as if the World knew how she was feeling and was showing its understanding. As if it were saying she was completely justified. As the heavens opened and sleet joined the wind in its message, Brienne contributed her tears to the water running down her face, and sighed and shivered as she let the weather whip her.

By the time she had opened her eyes, the sun had set and the clouds were now a dim grey-blue. Most of the lights had come on in the castle, and the smell of damp gravel and mud joined that of the Forest. The wind had died down slightly, and the rain had hastened to a quiet trickle. She took a deep sigh, refreshed and calm.

She felt something warm slip over her bitterly-cold shoulders and a pressure on her hand.

"Come on, you."

Brienne turned to see George, standing a couple of feet away, his hand holding hers. She looked down to see that he had tucked a cloak over her shoulders, and that Angelina was stood a couple of feet closer to the castle, her arms wrapped around herself, her hair being whipped about slightly. They both looked at her with worry in their eyes.

Opening her mouth, she felt as if she owed them an explanation, but no words would come. She became aware that she must have some evidence of tears on her face, and didn't know how to explain them. Her emotions came back in a wave, and her breath hitched in her throat as George stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She leant on him and his warmth, and his familiar, comforting scent. Apples and cinnamon, and the friendly smell of his knitted jumper. He was not as tall as her father, but she could still bury her face in his shoulder and hold him tightly around the waist while her breathing evened out.

As George pulled back, Angelina joined them and wound an arm around her waist, smiling. They guided her forward, George holding her hand gently. Brienne tried to find the energy to feel stupid, to say she wasn't a child that could be babied by her parents, but couldn't.

"I'm fine, I'm-" her throat locked up again.

"We know you are." Angelina said breezily.

A word of thanks bubbled in the back of her throat but still wouldn't come, and for a moment she felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

Nature wasn't the only thing to understand her.

The warmth of the castle soothed her as they mounted the stairs, Angelina's arm slipping from her waist. It was almost as they reached the Common Room that Brienne realised she was walking freely through the halls of Hogwarts hand-in-hand with George Weasley. The thought flickered in her mind that it was a feeling that she could get used to.

By the time that they walked through the Portrait hole and into the Common Room, Fred and Lee had finished their homework and were chatting animatedly about something on the floor in front of the fire. The Room was now mostly full of Gryffindors back from dinner, tables occupied and full of sounds of laughter and chatter. George dropped Brienne's hand and joined them. She stopped as if she had been hit by a brick wall, but Angelina wound her arm around her waist again and steered her to her chair.

"We thought we'd send them to get you when it started hailing," Fred said, the two of them turned to face her as she sat. "You're going to die of frostbite now. You alright?"

"_George _didn't need any persuading-"

"Shut _up_."

She pursed her lips and spread them in a smile. "I'm fine."

"Good." Fred's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he returned to his conversation, "Yeah, anyway, Chang's pretty good, but now that Harry's got a Firebolt nobody's got a chance!"

"I'd like to believe you, but their Beaters are bloody good."

Tuning their Quidditch talk out, Brienne took a deep breath and pulled her abandoned Charms essay onto her lap. She stared at the page for a moment before dipping her quill in ink and continuing as best she can.

It was an hour later before she finished, and packed her stuff away in her bag for the following day.

She stood, waved in goodnight, and weaved her way around the armchairs in front of the fire toward the dormitory staircase. As she passed the back of George's chair, he looked over his shoulder and halted her with words that made her cold.

"Are you ready to tell us what's happened yet?"

She turned to him, and was surprised to find his face deadly serious in expression. Angelina was leaning on the arm of her own chair, resting her head on her crossed arms, watching them.

Her throat was still sticky. She would not lie. Brienne blinked, shook her head, and headed for the dormitory before they could call her back.


	19. The Chill and the Fire

The Joker and Her

Chapter 19

The Chill and the Fire

"Standing out in the rain is always a good idea, I reckon," Fred said brightly, before taking a bite of a sweet pastry. "Good way to get yourself nice and stuffed up."

"Doh' be smard wid be," Brienne muttered, before sniffing, "gib be your croissant. Dow."

"You sounded very French then."

"I _am_ Fredch."

"He has a valid point." Angelina sipped at a cup of coffee, her sleeves pulled down to protect her hands from the heat.

Brienne glared at the opposite wall as her friends stood gathered around her, Fred stuffing the sugary pastry in his mouth so he didn't have to share. She was sitting on one of the crisp blue beds of the Hospital Wing, after Angelina heard Brienne retching in the dormitory toilet twenty minutes earlier. She had insisted that they go straight to the Hospital Wing, despite her friends' protestations. They encountered Fred and George snoozing in front of the fire, last nights' homework still laid out in front of them, and who were adamant to come along once they jerked awake. The girls still in their dressing gowns, boys in their dishevelled robes, they were now awaiting Madam Pomfrey, who was rustling around in her stores.

Brienne felt awful. Despite having been showered the evening before by the rain, she felt a cold sheen of sweat all over her body, her insides bubbling and uncomfortably warm, like a stew. Her throat was dry, her sinuses throbbing and swollen. It felt like her lungs were caked in dust.

"We really needed this, the morning of the game," George muttered, rubbing his eyes and sore neck.

"I diduh' drag you all wib be, did I?" Brienne fixed her gaze on him.

"No," George admitted, "but that comment was more to Fred."

"Eh?"

"Face it, the only reason we're here is because you told Brienne not to go outside last night, and now she's got the sniffles."

"The sniffles. Cute." Fred smirked.

"You're _here," _announced Madam Pomfrey haughtily as she emerged from her rooms, a red bottle in her hand, "because you like to make this poor girl feel guilty for having a cold." She joined them, and added imperiously, "At _seven_ o'clock in the morning."

They all went silent for a moment, until Brienne gave a particularly loud sniff.

Madam Pomfrey jerked a little, and turned to Brienne from glaring at the others. "Oh dear, have a few good sips of this. It's Pepperup Potion, the bottle will clear you right up. Go on, there."

She handed over the bottle of Pepperup Potion, which was warm to the touch. Brienne pulled out the cork and took a hesitant sip. It was searing down her throat and bitter in taste, but the runniness and swelling in her nose retreated almost immediately, and it was easier to breathe. She grimaced, but was encouraged to continue sipping before giving the bottle back to Madam Pomfrey.

"Ha ha!" Fred barked suddenly, making them all jump in their drowsy state. He pointed at Brienne's head. "There's steam coming out of your ears! Excellent! Give me some."

"Ah!" Madam Pomfrey swatted Fred's hand as he reached for the bottle.

"Do you feel any better?" Angelina asked, "I really don't want you to miss our match today."

Brienne shrugged, and then groaned. "I feel horrible."

There was a silence for a few moments, in which Fred and George's eyes wandered and Angelina sipped from her cup. Madam Pomfrey sighed exasperatedly.

"Well, if you're going to sit out in the cold again watching a load of hooligans throwing balls around in the air, you should take this." She thrust the bottle into Brienne's hands again, before bustling back into her offices.

There was another short pause. "Oh for Merlin's sake, I'll come. It doesn't make any difference da you, ediway, so why I 'av du be dare..." Brienne coughed and spluttered, before taking a large scorching gulp of the potion. "I'm going to need more of this."

"No, you're not going anywhere." George sighed. "Go up to the dorm and catch up on some homework, or something."

"Catch up on your sleep, rather, by the looks of you," Fred commented, looking slightly concerned. "Having the flu and doing homework is a bit of a double-whammy."

"I'll get the house-elves to bring you up some food," Angelina whispered, glancing at the door.

They didn't need to tell Brienne twice.

One of Brienne's favourite places was the fifth-year girls' bathroom in the Gryffindor dormitory. This was not only because she craved a way to distract herself, but because she took personal interest in the way she looked after herself, and she could almost never find ample time to do so. She wasn't particularly bothered about how she looked in the sense of what others thought about her; but she liked to smell nice, she liked the feeling of being clean, almost as if this could outwardly display her inward feelings, or, in other words, mask them. Right now, with her upper lip and nose rubbed raw and red, and a layer of cold sweat over her pale skin, Brienne needed to soak it all away.

The bathroom was large and round, the walls fashioned entirely of one colourful stained glass window enchanted not unlike the ceiling in the Great Hall. They moved magically, and depicted different scenes of magical creatures frolicking in lush forests, the sparkling seas, the fresh skies or around icy mountains, and were entertaining enough that you could simply lay in the bath for hours before realising. The floor was of white marble, and the amply-sized bath was built into the floor. The three taps at one end released cold, hot, and multi-coloured warm water, all mixed with differently scented bubble baths that doubled as shampoo.

Fluffy maroon towels materialise which instantaneously, completely dry the skin and hair by themselves. By the door, there was a dressing table adorned with various grooming products: magical hair-curling lotion, moisturising cream which changes scent with every use. The reason that Brienne liked this room so much was because of its sheer efficiency.

Nine months ago – was it really that long? – Brienne had very little concern over this matter. What was it to her that her face was pallid and clammy, that her hair was a little too long and wasn't washed quite often enough? Her mother was dead. In the beginning, she couldn't care less that the elegantly groomed witches and sharply suited young wizards at Beauxbatons stared after her in the corridors or during dinner; she hardly noticed. It simply was not a desperate concern to her any longer. Then, over the summer, she realised that her lack of interest affected her father greatly, and therefore began to slowly put herself back together again. To wake up from the small, dark world inside her head that she had lost herself within, into the very large, wide world outside, the one that no longer contained the woman that had given her life for her.

Brienne soaked for as long as she could before there was hammering on the door from one of her fellow fifth-years. She dried herself and dressed in a casual beige jumper and some soft trousers, feeling refreshed – and, nursing her bottle of Pepperup Potion, shuffled into the dormitory. She still felt sore, and sipped at what was left of the Potion, becoming thoroughly sick of the strong, acrid taste.

Almost as she thought this, Brienne came across her bed to discover a tray had been laid on the small bedside desk. It was laden with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon, an apple, a Chocolate Frog, a glass of pumpkin juice and a cup of still-steaming tea, two small biscuits propped against the red mug.

Brienne snorted, patted her stomach and climbed into her bed. She could hear some of her fellow fifth-year witches were still mooching in the Common Room, getting ready for the day before going down to breakfast. As the chattering sounds slowly died away, Brienne let out a slow breath and pulled the tray onto her lap. Because she knew she wouldn't be able to restrain herself, she cleared everything on the tray. And because she knew she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it, she pulled her bag onto the bed as she began to eat.

Every twenty minutes or so, a feeling of fatigue and a general sense of illness came over her, and after she finished her breakfast she drained what was left in her bottle of Pepperup Potion. She sighed, felt a twinge of guilt as she heard the distant roar of the crowd listening to the Quidditch game, and got started on the first of her two remaining pieces of work: Charms and Herbology.

She heard Lee's - and oddly, Professor McGonagall's – voices boom through the grounds, their words unclear. She wondered how they were doing; Fred, George and Angelina. And their teammates, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, Oliver Wood. Harry Potter and his brand new super-broom. Had the twins aimed any good Bludgers yet? Brienne caught herself; she supposed the Quidditch obsession among her friends had begun to rub off on her.

Brienne continued her homework, aiming to finish before they returned from the match. She felt somewhat uncomfortable sitting on her squishy mattress; she liked to lean back with her homework on her lap. But she felt so rotten; she didn't feel like trudging down to the Common Room, especially if her friends would probably be throwing a victory party in there before long. These robes were a little tight. Should she start exercising? She'd retained a lot of weight since the Christmas period. She didn't want to enlarge her clothes again. With a shake of her head, Brienne realised she was probably trying to put herself off.

She hardened her resolve, and before long she finished her Charms essay. The roar of the crowd began to emanate from the grounds, and Brienne reasoned that the match was over, or at least was reaching its peak. A voice in her head laughed, imagining the crowd was cheering her on in her efforts.

Twenty five minutes later, and her pleasingly simple Herbology homework done (matching a plant to its medicinal uses), Brienne began to hear the sounds of students celebrating in the Common Room. She could hear the door to the dormitory being thrown open. Angelina streaked up the stairs; still wearing her scarlet Gryffindor robes.

"We won! We did it! Harry was brilliant!" She whooped a little breathlessly as she dived onto her bed.

"Well done."

"It was brilliant!" Angelina beamed, and jumped from her own bed to Brienne's. "Some Slytherins tried to scare Harry by dressing up as Dementors, but it was so funny, he had already caught the Snitch. And guess what?! He fired a Patronus at them! What we've tried to do in Defence against the Dark Arts for weeks."

"A proper Patronus?" Brienne asked incredulously, feeling a little put out that a boy two years younger than them could do it.

"Well, no, more like a massive ball of silver light."

"It was a pretty short match," Brienne said, checking the little carriage clock on her bedside table.

"Yeah, well, we were already amazing. With Harry's Firebolt they stood no chance."

"Right." Brienne smiled, pleased that she was pleased.

After a few seconds, they heard the excitement escalate in the Common Room, two identical voices yelling louder than the rest.

"Come on you lot, party! We've got food and drink from the kitchens, fill your gobs!"

There was a loud sound of approval from the rest of Gryffindor House, followed by the sounds of a radio being tuned.

Angelina shifted her weight, and leaned towards the door. "I'd better get changed." She threw open her trunk and pulled out some clothes. She wiggled out of her uniform and pulled on a red shirt and light blue Muggle jeans.

"Keeping up the colour scheme," Brienne muttered as Angelina put some gold studs in her ears.

"Are you coming?" she grinned and dragged a brush through her windswept hair. Angelina turned to Brienne, still in bed, and patted herself down, "Do you feel well enough? If not..." she glanced towards the door – where the sounds of the party were still building – and added, "I could stay up here with you. Bring some of the party up here."  
Well, that wouldn't be fair. "Don't be silly. Go downstairs; I'll be down in a minute."

Angelina beamed again, and rushed back down the staircase. Brienne gave a large, lazy sigh, and dragged her covers off. She stood, just as some of her fellow fifth-years straggled up the iron staircase, presumably to get ready for or avoid the party brewing in the Common Room. She deemed her current outfit to be acceptable, brushed her hair and remade her bed. Brienne groaned. She had never been one for parties.

Down the spiral staircase, Brienne could hear laughter and old music playing from the rickety radio. She sighed and slowly descended into the Common Room, where the majority of Gryffindor House was in celebration. A large red banner - one she recognised from Gryffindor's Quidditch game against Hufflepuff a few months before - was hung over the fireplace, adorned with a proud gold lion. All of the tables were messily spread with packets of sweets, piles of crisps and sandwiches and bottles of pumpkin fizz. The members of the Quidditch team were surrounded by the rest of the house and were being congratulated, food and drink thrust in their hands, treated like royalty. Fred and George were in the epicentre, still dressed in their Quidditch robes, paper crowns upon their heads.

Brienne squeezed past Alicia and Katie, who were holding Harry Potter's Firebolt up in the air as if it were the Quidditch Cup itself, to Angelina. She was standing with a bottle of Butterbeer in her hand, and was talking to Percy Weasley, the Twins' older brother. She looked thoroughly bored, nodding after every few words that he spoke,

"-And my girlfriend and I, we bet on who would win the match. She's a Ravenclaw, you see, so ten Galleons, well, it wouldn't go amiss after Christmas."

They both turned as Brienne joined them. Angelina raised her eyebrows and grinned in thanks for her rescue. Percy nodded at her and took it as his cue to leave. He adjusted his robes, his Head Boy badge glinting, and moved over to slap Harry Potter's shoulder.

"Merlin, thank you for that," Angelina muttered in an undertone.

"He's not that bad."

"He's deathly dull. Ron's loads better."

"I haven't really spoken to him."

"Bit annoying, but doesn't want me to go to sleep on my feet."

"Brienne!" Fred stumbled up, his face alight in a smile, and threw an arm around each of the girls. "You missed a heck of a game, everyone was on form! Oliver!"

He gestured to the team captain, who gave a thumbs up from his seat in the corner of the room and went back to his conversation.

"He's probably going on about the next game already," George said as he joined them, "Do you feel any better?"

Brienne nodded. "Much better, thanks."

"Good old Pomfrey."

He smiled at her, his hair windswept, matching his ruby red robes. She felt warmth in her chest entirely unrelated to her cold, and she couldn't help smiling back. Brienne jolted a little, surprised at how her vision seemed to condense into that one image whenever she looked into his eyes. She felt like an idiot. Fred shoved into Brienne and thrust a bottle of pumpkin fizz into her hand. "Drink this, Vitamin C!" She took a long drink from the bottle to pull her away from the moment.

The party only seemed to gain momentum, and lasted for the rest of the day and continued well into the night, when some of the younger pupils were encouraged to go up to bed before they fell asleep where they stood. Few Gryffindors graced the Great Hall that evening, though Brienne craved something more substantial and healthy than Cauldron Cakes, Peppermint Cream Toads and delicate Chocoballs, no matter how delicious they were. Despite this, she was glad she had an excuse to relax for a while. She was happy for her friends, who seemed to have so much pride at winning the Quidditch that it was as if they'd won the World Cup, not just a qualifying game in their school championships.

At about twelve-thirty, Peeves gate crashed the party and got involved in earnest, before veering off into his own realm of 'fun,' and upturned a table. He whizzed away, cackling, as he passed through the wall to verbally abuse Sir Cadogan in his portrait on the other side. Before long, Professor McGonagall came into the Common Room in her nightcap and dressing gown to implore them to go to bed, to groans of protest.

This was more or less the cue for the students to wind down the party, and they began to trudge upstairs. Brienne waited up, Angelina yawning beside her at the staircase, for Fred and George to finish trying to persuade their fellow fifth-years to stay up.

"Lightweights! I'm not tired at...at all!" George called as the last stragglers other than the four of them ventured up.

"That wasn't a yawn creeping up on you was it, Georgie?" Angelina grinned, and George glared back at her.

"Oh come on, please," Brienne whined, knowing she was being petty but was too tired to really care.

"_Fine_," Fred and George groaned together.

The group stepped away from the trashed Common Room and they parted ways, the boys up the left staircase, girls to the right.

Brienne and Angelina crept quietly into their dormitory and settled into bed after wordlessly changing out of their clothes. The rest of the girls in their year were snoozing, Katie Bell the only one that snored. Brienne was aching, the memory of her earlier cold thrumming in her muscles and in her head, telling her to get some rest.

She collapsed onto her bed, whispered goodnight to Angelina, and sank into sleep almost immediately.

"Bree, wake up!" Angelina's voice was full of fear.

Brienne jerked awake with a gasp, Angelina's hands on her shoulder. "What?"

She was vaguely aware that the curtains around her bed had been thrown open. Angelina stood over her in her lilac dressing gown, one side of her hair messy and wild, the other pressed flat on her cheek. Her brow was furrowed, her lower lip quivering, trying to contain her features in a calm mask, but failing miserably. Brienne had seen her anxious and apprehensive, but never before frightened.

"What's the-?"

"Someone in the boy's dorm was attacked!" Angelina hissed it, not quite able to keep the panic from her voice. At her words, Brienne's blood ran cold, and the impossibility of the statement had her hands shaking before she could respond. Their twins. Lee Jordan. Brienne's mouth hung open, spluttering.

"Come on!" Angelina pressed, and she pulled Brienne out of bed. Only when she was standing did Brienne realise that the rest of the girls had already gone downstairs. She pulled on her red robe and followed Angelina down the staircase to the Common Room.

What the girls were met with was the entire house of Gryffindor crowded around a small group standing by the fire, the only source of light in the room. Someone was shouting. Brienne heard gasps of relief as siblings found each other, boyfriends and girlfriends, best friends grasping each other through the throng. Angelina pushed through, pulling Brienne by the hand until they got to the source of the shouting.

Ron Weasley, the twins' younger brother, was standing silhouetted in front of the crackling fire, shaking from flame-haired head to fluffy-socked foot. Fred and George, along with their older brother Percy, were standing nearby, their arms crossed, frowning. Harry Potter and a girl that Brienne couldn't name were standing closer to Ron Weasley, both looking terrified.

"Sirius Black! In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!" He implored to Percy, seeming quite unable to form complete sentences.

Angelina and Brienne shuffled next to the twins, who glanced over and pursed their lips in greeting; it was clear they weren't taking their brother seriously. Percy Weasley was exasperatedly trying to both tell his brother that he was talking nonsense and the rest of the Gryffindors to go back to bed. The room went silent when Sirius Black's name was uttered; he had been quite a taboo in the school since the incident at Halloween.

Brienne was trying hard not to display her terror. The subject of her mother's killer had been mercifully driven from her mind that day but had been slammed back into her mind at full force, and the idea of a killer within Hogwarts walls – Sirius Black (who could in no way have been involved, as he was in Azkaban at the time) or not - horrified her, and she tried to keep her raspy, uneven breaths quiet, waiting for the moment that she could be alone to deal with this herself.

Minutes later, Professor McGonagall returned to face the issue, and within fifteen minutes of Sir Cadogan confirming that he had let a man into the Tower, Gryffindors were going back up to bed, where surely they would not sleep. Some of the younger pupils were crying and refusing to leave their friends and siblings. Ron Weasley was taken back up, trembling, by Harry Potter and Percy Weasley. Before long it was just Angelina, Brienne, and the twins, who had grown more serious after learning that their brother hadn't been dreaming. The fire was still flickering away, casting shapeless shadows onto the four of them. Angelina wrapped her arms around Fred's neck, the rich colour of her arms and his red hair and milk-bottle skin contrasting well.

"It'll be alright. You see, they'll have god knows what keeping up security by daybreak," Fred muttered, "Bloody Ron. I was knackered."

"Always the most attention seeking one of us." George winked at Brienne, though it was clear he was disturbed by the nights' events.

Angelina looked down, biting her lip as if she couldn't decide whether to say something or not. "I have to say though, I'm glad no one was hurt." She ran her hand down Fred's arm, and they looked at each other for a moment. Suddenly Brienne felt like she was intruding. George scratched his head.

That was when Brienne stumbled back onto an armchair, and sat. Her shaking hand accidently knocked into an ink bottle, which fell onto its' side with a noise that made the other three jump.

"What's the matter?" George asked. Brienne couldn't speak. As he walked to her, she let out a terrible moan, and buried her head in her hands.

"What are you crying for?" Fred asked, surprised. Angelina rushed over, face aghast, and put her arm around her shoulder as George tried to grip her hands.

"She isn't crying, she's hyperventilating."

Brienne wanted to bat them away and tell them to leave her alone. But the knowledge in her was on the verge of spilling over. She was in anguish.

"Don't be silly Bree, its fine, it wasn't Sirius Black, it was just that utter git Malfoy in another disguise," George muttered. Brienne could not remember nor care who Malfoy was.

"They're going to get me. They'll come, and they'll get me." That was when she started crying.

The other three froze for a moment, before Angelina stroked her hair gently. "Who's going to get you, Bree?"

"They'll get me, like they got my Mum!"

This threw them, the twins exchanging a look of alarm. Angelina tenderly took Brienne's wrists in her hands and drew them away from her face, which was red and damp. She smiled kindly, and spoke softly.

"Nobody's going to get you, Brienne."

She shook her head vigorously, unable to stop talking. "They are! They're coming! They took a picture of me so they could find me!" She needed them to understand.

"Am I missing something?" Fred asked, "What picture?"

Angelina whipped around to him, face angry, but turned her head slowly back to her friend, curious as to the answer. George gulped, his hands still on Brienne's arms. She held onto him firmly, like he was the one thing anchoring her.

Brienne looked at each of them in turn, the awareness of George's cool hands on her skin only barely pushing through her consciousness. She took a deep breath, but her voice still shook.

"My mother's killer took a photo of me from my house. A photo of me. They killed my mother, and now they're going to kill me. I don't know why I'm doing these exams, because they're coming, they're waiting. I'll be dead by the end of the year."


	20. Information

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 20**

Information

They all spoke at once.

"What in the name of Merlin's pink knickers are you talking about?!" Fred exclaimed.

"Just because they took a photo doesn't mean...!" Angelina spluttered.

"Die? What do you mean, _die_?" George asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He sounded as if he had never even heard of the concept.

Fred straightened up from his crouch and began to pace around the room, his face screwed up in confusion. Angelina was staring, eyes wide, a finger resting on her lip thoughtfully. George's gaze drifted to the floor before raising right back up, looking perplexed.

Brienne had her head in her hands, stunned. She couldn't believe what she had just blurted to her friends. Her breathing was still uneven and she could feel the beginnings of tears trickling from the corners of her blue, bloodshot eyes. What on Earth had she been thinking? Her body felt deflated from the release of pent-up pressure. And then the truth of what she had said hit her again, and she suddenly felt very weak.

"Brienne, y-you don't have to think that way. It could be a coincidence," Angelina muttered quietly.

"Nobody's going to kill you. What good would you be to anyone _dead_?" Fred yelled to the room in general, "I mean—I didn't mean that, I meant...why would anyone want to kill _you?_"

Brienne removed her hands from her face and watched her friends with bleary eyes as they spoke to each other. They were muttering together now, trying to deconstruct what she had said and negating it. She wasn't sure if they were doing it for her benefit or for theirs.

"Let's just forget this now, let's just forget it." George turned to Brienne, looking her in the eye with an honesty that surprised her, "Are you OK?"

She raised her eyebrows, and opened her mouth to speak. Brienne was determined to say something brave, but what emerged was merely a croaking noise from her dry throat.

George immediately shuffled forward on his knees and pulled Brienne against his chest. She heard Angelina give a wistful "_Oh,"_ and Brienne closed her eyes.

"You don't have to be scared - there's no point at all," he whispered in her ear. The warmth of his breath made her want to push herself closer to him. "Whatever happens, happens."

Brienne screwed her eyes up tight, fighting within herself to calm down. Her hands were fists on his back.

Angelina turned to Fred, one hand resting on her mouth, concerned. "Sh-should we take her to see McGonagall? Or Dumbledore?"

Her heart hammered. "No, it's OK," she rasped. Brienne knew they must be aware of the situation already.

George drew away and held her at arm's length. "Are you sure?"

Brienne nodded. She knew her friends needed more of an explanation, but she could face it. She wasn't sure her throat was up to it. George braced her as they stood.

Fred stepped forward and slung an arm around her shoulder. "OK, well, you can sleep on it. You look knackered. Probably not best to drag her around the castle after what's happened tonight, anyway," he added to Angelina in an undertone.

They walked toward the dormitory staircases and bade each other goodnight, both twins looking stressed and concerned. Brienne knew it wasn't just for her; their brother was obviously the more pressing concern, having actually had an attempt against his life.

Angelina and Brienne stepped back to their dorm quietly, the patting of their feet on the stone steps all they could hear. Brienne felt floppy, the ghost of her cold thrumming through her veins. It felt like years ago that she'd been sitting in her bed and doing her homework.

They reached their dorm, some of the lamps still on. The other fifth years were all lying in their beds, wrapped tightly in their sheets, eyes open, but none of their curtains draped across. None of them hiding the fact that nobody would sleep that night. Brienne saw Angelina purse her lips as they reached their neighbouring beds; she knew Angelina would want to talk, to reassure, but with their classmates awake and listening it was no longer an option.

She climbed into her bed and collapsed on her pillows. She turned away from Angelina's bed and shut her eyes tightly. She felt like a rubber hose, floppy and empty, emotionally wasted. Steadily, gradually, Brienne felt her body relax, and as she heard the sounds of a creature howling in the woods her buzzing brain stilled, and she fell into sleep.

When the day broke, with it brought tentative sunshine breaking through thin clouds. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen overnight, and the dim sunlight reflected brightly. Brienne awoke at daybreak and stretched. She lay on her bed for a moment, arms splayed out, before she sighed and groaned as she sat up. She supposed she had to face the music.

The rest of the dormitory was empty, most of the other girls having left their beds unmade. Brienne knew it wasn't the end of speculation and worrying about what had happened the night before to Ron, and that the atmosphere in the boy's dormitory must have been much worse. She felt a rush of guilt for her outburst, especially for Fred and George. As much as she was scared for herself, it was nothing compared to how they must now feel, trapped between being anxious for their brother and concerned about her.

After having a wash, she dressed in a thick grey jumper and some soft turquoise shorts and slouched downstairs, her hands shoved in the pockets of her jumper.

The Common Room was fuller than she expected, almost as full as it was in the evenings after dinner. The debris from the party the night before had been cleared away, but all of the tables were spread with fresh snacks and bottles of drinks. As she walked across the room towards Angelina by the fire, she felt a chill run down her spine; conversation between the Gryffindors was a very low hum, some people silent and staring into their laps.

"Good morning," Brienne greeted quietly, slipping into the armchair next to Angelina's.

Her friend turned her head and grinned, before her eyes returned to the essay on her lap. She chewed from a bowl of cereal she held in her hands, her dark hair in curtains around her face.

"Where are the boys?" Brienne asked.

Angelina swallowed, "They went down to breakfast with Ron and Harry. I s'pose they want to make him feel better. But as soon as they get back here he'll be shaking in his little third-year shoes again." She gestured towards the room behind them, and Brienne nodded in agreement. The way things were, this atmosphere would not help anything.

"And also, we've all got a curfew now," Angelina went on, "Have to be back in the dorm practically as we swallow our dinner."

Brienne knew she was putting off the inevitable conversation. She sat back as Angelina returned to her homework, her stomach churning, waiting for it to come.

Fred and George arrived back from breakfast before it did. The portrait hole opened, and the Twins entered, alone with Lee and Ron, the latter moving off to another part of the Common Room with his friends.

"Well, Ron's better," Fred announced as he collapsed into one of the armchairs, "He's loving all the attention he's getting, surviving an attack by a blood-thirsty killer."

"If we knew that, we would have attacked him a long time ago." George dropped his bag onto the rug in front of the fire and slumped down beside it. He pulled out some rolls of parchment and a textbook and sighed, "No rest for the wicked."

Brienne waited tensely as Fred started some homework aswell. An errant thought flitted through her mind that they must be feeling awkward about the situation if Fred and George were doing homework under their own steam.

Lee slumped into the last armchair and began to chatter on about the Quidditch match the day before, and the following party, leaving out the more worrying events following afterward. Though Brienne knew he was a master at covering up difficult atmospheres, she also knew there was no way he could know about her own personal problems, and she felt a flush of gratitude that nobody had told him. She was mortified enough that she had let _anybody_ in on her own crisis; she didn't want anybody else getting involved.

After a few minutes Brienne heaved a quiet sigh and went to retrieve her bag from the dormitory; if you can't beat them, join them. Even considering her anxious state, she finished all of her homework before the others did. She knew that they had practised very hard for their Quidditch game, and hadn't had as much spare time as Brienne to work. By lunchtime, she had gone through every essay and worksheet that she had written over the weekend a couple of times, correcting and changing as she went. It was boring work, but it never distracted her from the elephant in the room.

At twelve fifteen, Fred stuffed his books back into his bag and stretched his arms, groaning loudly. "I _hate_ homework. I'll be happy when the OWLs are over."

"Then we have NEWTs," Angelina mumbled.

"Oh, we won't bother with NEWTs," George said, "You don't need them to open a sweets shop."

"I thought you wanted to open a joke shop!" Angelina asked.

"A jokey sweet shop. Sweets to make you puke, sweets to make you pass out..." Fred replied, an excited grin on his face.

"Good luck with getting that approved, guys."

Brienne fought the effort to shake her head in disbelief. Weren't they going to mention it at all? Did they just think that she had imagined or over-dramatised her own, very real problems?

"Let's go outside," Lee suggested, "I want a snowball fight."

"You're looking for a world of hurt," Fred exclaimed, bursting out of his armchair as George also climbed up from the floor.

Angelina and Brienne exchanged a sarcastic glance and rolled their eyes before they stood. They climbed the staircase to the dormitory quietly, as they had almost twelve hours before, to change. Brienne pulled on some Muggle jeans and pulled up her knee-high socks. They wrapped scarves and pulled on gloves.

"I'm really not in the mood for this." Brienne broke her silence.

Angelina looked over at her, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I know, I don't think I am either. But it might cheer you up."

She didn't want to be cheered up, Brienne thought, she wanted to feel reassured. But that was something nobody could give her. Her spirits lifted slightly as they spotted the Twins by the portrait hole wrapped in thick coats, and their bobbled knitted hats. Sometimes they passed the realm of ridiculous into being adorable, and they didn't care.

They passed through the portrait hole and skittered away from the protective trolls that were stationed on either side of the newly reinstated Fat Lady, who looked shaken and unimpressed as they jogged away.

The five of them burst out of the front doors into the grounds; the pure white snow largely untouched due to the surprising lack of students taking advantage of their Sunday afternoon, save for a group of Slytherins who were kicking snow at each other closer to the greenhouses. Immediately, Lee crouched down and scooped up a handful of snow, moulded it with his gloved hands.

"Excellent, this is perfect snow war conditions," he muttered with glee, and he raised his arm, aimed, and then threw the snowball in an arc over the Twin's heads to crash precisely onto Angelina's forehead.

"Ahh, you _git_!" Angelina cried, shaking her head free of the white slush. Lee let out a howl of laughter, and the two raced off, Angelina cursing loudly.

The Twins laughed, and George bent to gather some snow in his hands.

"No!" Fred yelled, and sped away after Angelina and Lee.

George raised his arm to throw the snow at Fred, but his brother was fast, and before he could aim he was out of range. Brienne stood with her feet planted in the ground, and frowned as George turned to her.

She lifted a finger to point at him. "Don't you even think about it."

"Right." George let the snow fall from his fingers, and they began to trudge forward in the direction of everyone else.

On impulse she wound her arm around his as they walked. She thought normally he would balk at such contact, but he was probably feeling just as cold as her. Or he was just in a good mood. Or, Brienne thought, maybe he just didn't mind that she wanted to be close to him. So many thoughts whirred through her mind, and they spotted their friends in the distance, standing on the outskirts of the Quidditch stadium, in the throes of a full-out snow war.

George sniffed. "Why do you smell like almonds?" He leaned over a little to sniff in her direction, "How can anyone smell like almonds?"

"It's my hair conditioner. And you smell like coffee." She looked and him and frowned, "Have a bad night?"

"You smell nice, like a bakewell tart. Who didn't have a bad night?"

"Hmm."

"On that note, how are you today? Still think someone will burst out of the bushes and smite you where you stand?"

"Don't make fun of me, George. Everything I said was true."

He paused. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

She sighed, and related the story of Stanley Meadowes' visit over Christmas, with some amendments, leaving out some of the finer details of the murder investigation. It was as she was finishing the story that she realised it was the first time she had told anybody the true nature of her Christmas holiday.

George sighed, his breath coming out in puffs of steam, "But it's like you said, they could have taken the photograph for any reason. Why would they want to attack you? What have you done?" He looked at her, a sarcastic and suspicious expression on his face. "Do you have some sort of criminal alter-ego we don't know about? The terror of the high seas! The Tiny French Girl! Nobody is safe!"

Brienne pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. "I'm not tiny. I've eaten my weight in chocolate over the last few weeks, no thanks to you and your brother."

"We aim to please."

"It was a great present, though."

"Was it the best present you got?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, it was." She thought it best not to mention her mother's wand, Brienne wanted to keep that information to herself. Her eyes drifted to the ground as they came within range of the Stadium. They could hear the cries and shouts and laughter from within.

"I don't know why they're after me, but if an Auror thinks so, I have no reason not to believe him. Listen," she added softly as George opened his mouth to speak, "I'd really appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. Tell Fred if you must, but I'd really rather not have everyone know just yet. I'll tell them something, just not everything. OK?"

He frowned, and they stopped to face each other. "You know they all care, don't you?"

"I don't want everyone worrying about me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm worrying enough for everyone."

George shook his head, "That's just silly. We're your friends."

She couldn't think of a response, so she shrugged and looked at the ground.

He sighed again. "You silly billy. Well, I stand by what I said last night. You don't need to be scared."

Brienne looked up at him, just in time for some icy wind to blow hair in her face. He reached over with one hand and tucked it behind her ears again. She smiled gratefully, and was glad that she had the cold as an excuse for why her cheeks were red. The wind slowed to a chilly breeze, but she was the warmest she'd felt all day. Brienne felt a stirring of longing mixed with motivation, but her nerves beat it down a notch. So all she did was step forward and wrap her arms around his neck in a hug, which he returned, briefly.

"Come on then," he said breezily, "Time to show them who-"

"AMBUSH!"

They looked up in time to see a large snowball flying in the air towards them. Quick as a flash, Brienne flicked her wand towards it.

"Aguamenti!"

The jet of clear water melted the snow before it could reach them.

"Curse you!" Lee yelled theatrically as he ran into view, closely followed by Fred and Angelina. All three were dripping wet and crusted with snow.

George ran forward, a large boulder of snow in his hands, "I say curse _you_, old boy!" he shouted, and the snowball fight resumed.

"I. Am. Exhausted," Angelina moaned as they re-entered the Common Room a few hours later, "And starving."

"Yes, let's go and eat," Fred replied, his red hair darkened and plastered to his face.

Brienne shuddered as she came within range of the fire. She knelt down and crawled as close as she could safely get to the glorious warmth. "That feels amazing. Bring me food, I can't leave."

"They might have crème brulee," Lee drew out the last word teasingly.

"I'll take my chances. Warm. Mmmmm."

"I'm going to get out of these frozen clothes," Angelina said, "Brienne, you come too, or you'll get another cold."

"Coming. Soon. Maybe."

"Bree, isn't this your owl?" Fred asked from a table near the window.

Brienne looked up, "Nyx."

Nyx was perched on the back of a chair, seeming to enjoy the attention he was getting from Fred. He hooted loudly as Brienne walked over, and flapped his black wings once in excitement.

"Hi, Nyx. What have you got there?"

The baby owl – which had grown a little since she had first got him – had an envelope attached to one of his legs, which he stuck out proudly. She scratched his head gently as she detached the envelope with her other hand. It was an official looking parchment, pale and glossy, with her name and 'Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts School' written in black ink with a swooping hand.

"Thank you, Nyx. Good boy. Fred, play with him for a bit while I read this." She turned, and, catching George's eye, took the letter up to the dormitory, where Angelina was drying off her hair with a towel. She was already changed.

"What's that?"

"No idea," she lied, "Go downstairs, it's OK. I'll be down in a minute."

She looked at her worriedly and sighed. "OK."

Brienne waited until she could hear Angelina's footsteps fade, before she took out the letter to read, her heart pounding. The handwriting was messy and rushed.

_Dear Brienne,_

_Happy New Year! I hope you all got back to Hogwarts safely. It was lovely seeing you over the Christmas break, and that you meant what you said about wanting to receive these reports._

_I do have to say that most of these are going to be rather disappointing for you. Since this is officially a foreign investigation there is little jurisdiction that we have, and I want to prepare you for that. _

_However, I do have some news. Since your mother's death, we've been looking into possible suspects, and have decided to investigate whether there are any presumed missing or dead Death Eaters that your mother may have encountered during the War, or if there have been any releases from Azkaban with the same link to your mother. So far we have little results, but of course I will let you and your father know if we have any promising leads._

_I hope to be able to write to you with some more news soon. I've also written to Paul, and he says he'll look you up if he sees you. It would be good to see you two friends again._

_Until next time,_

_Best Wishes,_

_Stanley Meadowes, HA, OoMSC_

Brienne gulped as she refolded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. So, not much change, then. But progress, in any case. Any information was better than no information. She felt a clutch in her heart for her mother and she rested her head in her hand for a moment. She wrote off a quick letter of thanks in response, changed her clothes, and ventured back downstairs.

"Here, Nyx. Off you go, good boy." She fed him an owl treat and attached the new letter, before releasing him back into the wintry afternoon. Brienne turned to Fred, George and Angelina, who were all watching her anxiously.

"Was that a report?" Angelina asked in an undertone; Brienne had, of course, already told them about the impending reports before any of the developments over Christmas.

"Yes."

"Any news?"

She shrugged. "Not really. They're looking into possible suspects. Nothing I didn't know already."

"Oh," Angelina looked sad for her for a moment, then stepped forward for a hug, "It's still better than nothing."

"I know."

"Shall we go down to dinner, then?" Fred asked, "Don't want to miss the _curfew_," he added in a mocking tone, before exchanging a grin with his brother. "Ha, curfew. How stupid."

Brienne pursed her lips in a small smile until they turned away towards the portrait hole, and she sighed. Yes, any information was good information.

Until it wasn't.


	21. Birthdays

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 21**

Birthdays

Turning sixteen wasn't generally the cause for an especially large celebration to those with largely magical descent. Since it would only be a year before their seventeenth birthdays, and the day they would come of age, their sixteenth usually slipped by like any other celebration.

When Muggleborn Paisley Hamilton turned sixteen in February, it was an entirely different affair. As she hastened to tell Brienne in their last Divination lesson before the day itself, "A girl's sweet sixteen is their first big birthday before they're, like, not allowed to have fun anymore. The first milestone."

Brienne didn't see how sixteen years was any special milestone. Because Paisley was a witch, she wasn't legal for anything - marriage, getting a job, having the Trace lifted – until she was seventeen. But since Brienne had already bought a gift she didn't suppose she needed any extra preparations.

When the twentieth rolled around, Brienne and Angelina walked into the Great Hall for breakfast to have their eyes immediately drawn to a bunch of shiny gold balloons swaying in the air over the Hufflepuff table, and one student in particular. They exchanged a glance, and Brienne felt relieved that she had brought Paisley's things down in her bag.

They approached the Hufflepuff table, Paisley's hysterical laughter guiding them to where she sat. Amy was sitting beside her sister, sipping from a glass of pumpkin juice, clearly bored out of her mind at the conversations of her sister's friends. Angelina began to rifle through her bag just as Brienne tapped Paisley on the shoulder.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Aw, thanks!"

Paisley had a yellow paper crown on her head and a silver necklace swinging from her neck, clearly a new present. Brienne passed over her card and wrapped gift, and Angelina reached around her to pass a card. The Hufflepuff ripped the present open first.

"'_How Muggleborns Are Clearly Cleverer and Downright Devilish.' _That's brilliant! Thanks."

"Brilliant, and true," Amy muttered, resting her head on a propped elbow.

Paisley tucked her cards, and her new book, into her bag and adjusted her large "16 Today!" badge pinned to her robes, which flashed in the light.

"I'll see you in Divination later."

Brienne waved, and she and Angelina strode over to the Gryffindor table, where Fred, George and Lee were chomping on their cereal.

When Divination rolled around at the end of the day, Brienne and Paisley were consulting their dream diaries and talking through possible meanings in preparation for their O.W.L exam. Both girls were feeling incredibly sleepy due to the heavily perfumed air and dim light from the recent sunset.

"I had a dream I was in this classroom and I finally had the guts to fall asleep and see if Her Royal Inner Eye would do anything," Paisley muttered before yawning. The Muggle balloons that her parents had sent for her to blow up herself were deflating already, only hovering at desk-height.

"Did she?" Brienne mumbled, her eyes staying on her textbook lest Trelawney look over at their table.

"I don't know, I went to sleep. And then I woke up, and I was in my bed."

"That's generally what happens."

"You!" Trelawney swept over to their desk, her taloned finger pointed dramatically at Paisley. "My girl, today you celebrate! My Inner Eye tells me you, why, today you become a year older!"

Both girls stared at her blankly. Paisley's luminous birthday balloons bumped against the desk. "Thank you, Professor. That's exactly right," Paisley replied in a monotone.

Trelawney puffed her chest out, a smug smile playing on her lips, completely oblivious to Paisley's sarcasm, and glided over to the next table.

The girls remained in silence as they watched her go. Brienne turned her head to Paisley and said, "You didn't tell me it was your birthday?"

Paisley cackled with laughter.

As the weeks passed, the fifth year students began to panic at the proximity of their O. . They were coming. Many fifth years (and seventh years preparing for their N.E.W.T.s) were admitted to the Hospital Wing to be treated for stress or anxiety attacks. Lessons began to recap the last five years of magical education, teachers trying their utmost to imprint their knowledge into the brains of their pupils. It came to a point where students would spend half an hour to write barely a paragraph of their essays and would demand a break; such was their apprehension of the tests.

April Fools' Day was the day that Fred and George turned sixteen. As the fifth years began to quake under the pressure of exam preparations, they took a much welcomed day off from homework in order to celebrate. Fred and George bounded down the spiral staircase that morning in their dressing gowns and slippers, and refused to change before they went down to breakfast. Random classmates they rarely spoke to would approach the group at the Gryffindor table and stand there awkwardly for a few minutes to distract themselves from the inevitable. Brienne and Angelina, watching the twins lap up this extra attention, were warily curious as to how exactly they were going to use their free time.

As Brienne looked around the Great Hall that morning – the enchanted ceiling a bright, cloudless sky blue – she realised that she was actually feeling very well that day. Content, even happy. Happy, she thought to herself, was something that she had not been for a very long time.

She spotted Paisley pouring tea for herself and her sister over at the Hufflepuff table. Fred and George were rowdy, louder than anyone else in the immediate vicinity. Eating from each others' plates. Fred mixed tea with coffee and drank it for his own amusement. George spilled pumpkin juice down his front because he was still tired.

Angelina was sitting beside her, eating a sticky bun and gazing at the two of them, eyebrow raised. She was solid, strong, faithful. Brienne was so grateful for them.

"Right, these are the plans," Fred announced, slapping one hand down on the table, "Ow. We're having a party."

"Another party?" Angelina asked with trepidation.

"Obviously! It's our birthday. It's a Friday night, so it can go on all night! And since we're older than all of you, you will comply under our demands."

"Actually, my birthday was in October, if you remember. And I'm taller than you. So _I'm_ in charge."

George paused. "Fair enough, maiden, but you know you'd never miss the chance to make yourself look pretty."

Angelina opened her mouth to speak, but Fred cut across her. "She _always_ looks pretty, you dimwit." He said it with a wink at Angelina, but there was an audible wince from George as Fred kicked his brother under the table.

The twins turned towards Brienne, who had been purposefully silent. "_Your_ birthday is in June," Fred muttered, a grin spreading on his face.

"Yes."

"So you've got to do what we say."

"...Right?"

"So you'll do anything we say?" Fred asked.

"Within reason."

Fred and George groaned and exchanged a roll of the eyes. "_Within reason,_" George muttered, "Reason's such a weak word."

As the bell rang for the first lesson of the day, there was an audible but hushed groan that rippled through the Hall. Fred and George dug their ties from their bags and put them on over their birthday jumpers that had arrived in the post from their mother. They stood as Brienne hurriedly finished her cup of tea.

"We'll see you in Trans."

"You're not going to get changed?" Angelina asked.

George giggled childishly, "No! Why should we wear sweaty robes all day? It's our birthday!"

Throughout the morning, Fred and George did indeed stay in their identical pyjamas, the red and gold striped shirts and trousers, crimson slippers and brown jumpers, each emblazoned with a yellow F or G. They swapped the jumpers between lessons to try and confuse the girls, but they were both so used to them that the ruse was mostly unsuccessful; it did, however, amuse Professors Sprout and Flitwick to no end. Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips, but did not say a word. The boys seemed rather pleased that they hadn't been reprimanded.

As the bell rang for lunch, the students spilled out of their Charms classroom and towards the Great Hall. Brienne reached behind her to pull her hair into a bun, and she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"We've decided what we want you to do," George muttered close to her ear as Fred and Angelina strolled away.

Brienne rolled her eyes and internally sighed. "OK, let's have it."

He stood over her with his hands behind his back, an innocent smile contrasting with the evil glint in his eye. The corridor was empty, but the sounds of travelling students still rang around them.

"You have to go upstairs and dress like us."

"In my pyjamas," she stated in a monotone.

"In your pyjamas."

Brienne let her head roll back and she closed her eyes. "We have History of Magic next, so it'll be harder not to fall asleep. Anything else?"

"I'll let you know. Are you gonna do it?"

She looked back at him and narrowed her eyes, "The things I do for you two."

"Thank you!" George picked her up and swung her around until she squealed. "Go now. I'll save you a seat in the Hall."

When George was out of earshot, Brienne let out a long groan, but she steeled herself and began to trudge to the Common Room. Fifteen minutes later, dressed in her dark red dressing gown, dark blue nightshirt and trousers, she took her seat in the Great Hall, silently furious from the puzzled looks she had received on the way from the dormitory. Fred, George and Lee applauded as she had approached the table, Angelina bursting out laughing.

As she sat, she could hear a smattering of jeering laughter from the Slytherin table, but she wasn't sure it was directed at her. Brienne glared at the twins.

"You had better do a lot to make this up for me. Peeves chased me through the second floor!"

"I saved you this." Fred passed over a plate of food, and a cup of pumpkin juice.

"It's a start. Thank you." She was glad they had abided by her new diet, which she hadn't actually mentioned to them but had resolved to start that day.

Forty minutes later, the bell rang for afternoon lessons. Fred, George and Angelina stood, and Brienne sighed before she followed.

"Ha! That just shows how _slow _Gryffindors are – it's lunch, not breakfast," a fifth-year Slytherin taunted as they left the Hall, "Of course, we already know how slow you two Weasley's are. Probably can't afford anything better than those _twigs_ you call brooms!"

Before the twins could turn, Brienne swivelled and walked over to the Slytherin, peering with her most ferocious expression into his dark brown eyes until his face dropped slightly. She was in no mood to suffer fools, especially not on the twin's birthday, and she was less than intimidated by jeers. She felt Angelina's hand on her arm.

She turned back to the twins, both of whom had their wands in their hands, and lead them from the Hall towards their History of Magic classroom.

"Pathetic snakes, the lot of them," Fred muttered darkly.

"They're not worth thinking about," Brienne said breezily. They passed a large framed mirror hanging on a wall in the Entrance Hall. "We do look like idiots, though."

"Just the way we like it."

After dinner that night, just as promised, the twins threw a party in the Gryffindor Common Room. It wasn't as euphoric as the parties usually thrown after Quidditch games, but it was excited all the same. Everybody knew Fred and George one way or the other, so first years right up to seventh years took a welcome break from their studies to dance around maniacally, some joining in with the night-time dress code. Brienne still felt the drag of knowledge that her bag, sitting on her beg, was full of homework awaiting completion. Despite this, she decided to stay at the party as long as was expected of her before going up to release some of the homework-related tension.

The radio blasted music, alternating between ballads and crashing anthems. Angelina jumped about in the middle of the dancing throng, taller than most other students, her head bobbing higher than the rest. Fred and George jumped on the armchairs by the fire, Lee Jordan slipping spectacularly from a chair and landing on a rug to rapturous laughter. Peeves zoomed through the room several times, picking up random items and throwing them around the room, cackling.

After a couple of hours of the chaos, Brienne pushed through the Portrait Hole to the corridor outside. The Fat Lady swung closed behind her, sealing away the floor-shaking noise. She breathed a sigh of relief and stretched her back as she walked a few paces away. She'd been wearing her pyjamas since lunch, and now she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Brienne pulled off her dressing gown and draped it over a banister, and straightened her nightshirt. She heard the Fat Lady open.

"Hello, you teeny tiny fifteen year old."

George stumbled toward her, his slippers flopping onto the carpeted corridor floor. Brienne grinned.

"Hello, you big scary sixteen year old."

"I'm tired. Are you tired?"

"Yes." _I'm always tired,_ she thought.

"It doesn't change, turning sixteen," George said, his eyes drooping. She thought he was much more tired than he wanted to let on.

"Should it?"

He shrugged, and they both leant on the banister, staring at the moving staircases above and below.

"Have you thought about what you're going to make Fred and me do on your birthday?"

She blinked. "No. You don't need to do anything."

He looked over at her, smiling. "That's very kind of you."

Brienne smiled back. "I know. This won't be a permanent fashion choice, though."

"Fair enough," he said softly, "want to do something else for me?"

"What?"

"Not freak out."

He reached over and laid a hand on the side of her neck. Her heart stopped, the blood rushed from her face, and she made a conscious effort to stop her jaw from going slack. George's face came inches and inches closer. Just as their noses were about to touch, his face veered to the side and he rested his head on her shoulder, laughing. She stared at the opposite wall, frozen.

"I'm- I'm sorry. You looked like you were about to pass out." His breath heaved with laughter.

Brienne was still in shock, so she didn't speak. George straightened up, wiping a hand over his face, which was bright red and exultant in delight.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be _that _terrible if I kissed you for real, you don't have to look so scared."

"You...you just sprung! How was I supposed to react?"

"I don't know! Less hilariously. More..." and he dissolved into hysterics yet again, bending down to lean his hands on his knees.

"I don't see what's so funny about this. You just tried to kiss me! Again!"

George took several deep breaths until his speech was normal. "I know! And both times it failed spectacularly. It's just so-so..." He clapped a hand over his mouth before he could start giggling again.

Brienne stared up at him. She wasn't at all sure what to think. Did he just try to kiss her because it was his birthday and he thought she'd let him? Disgust rolled in her stomach; no, he would never do that. Did he just do it on impulse? Yes, she thought so. But did that mean anything at all, about this time or the last?

These thoughts whirled through her mind as she peered at George. She wouldn't broach the broader subject now, whatever his intention.

"I'm gonna go back inside. I'm probably going to go to bed, actually," Brienne said, her voice a lot clearer and calmer than the one in her mind.

His face dropped, and his brow knitted together in concern, "I hope I haven't made you mad, I..." But he didn't continue.

"No, you haven't. Honestly, you haven't, it's just the wrong time. OK? Goodnight."

"Goodnight." George looked a little placated.

She was about to step away, but stopped, took a deep breath. Her voice was soft, "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks."

Brienne stood motionless for a few more seconds before she relaxed and wrapped her arms around George's neck for a brief moment. "Goodnight."

"Night."

She turned away and walked back to the dormitory.

Fifteen days after Fred and George's birthday, the Gryffindor Quidditch team faced Slytherin in the Hogwarts Quidditch Final. The Quidditch team played bravely despite the Slytherins' multiple act of foul play, and eventually they succeeded in beating the Slytherin team by seconds. The Quidditch team threw a party in the Common Room much like the several that had taken place before, for this victory was the last of the year; after this, there was nothing to prepare for but the O.W.L's.

As the high from the victory wound down over the following seven weeks, studying picked up a notch, and the fifth years' gave up trying to save time for leisure; meal times were now the only free time the group had to relax. They stayed up until almost midnight most nights in order to complete their homework.

After the birthday party, and George's unsuccessful attempt to kiss Brienne, relations between the two of them were not the same. The closeness that the two of them had developed over the last months gradually dissipated, and they could no longer comfortably sit together at dinner, let alone hold a conversation. Any effort made either by themselves or their friends to bring them together failed miserably; one evening Angelina, Fred and Lee sat at a crowded end of the Gryffindor Table, leaving Brienne and George to sit in a tense silence as they rushed to finish their meals.

Brienne was in turmoil. Being the quietest member of the group, the fact that she and George no longer spoke didn't really make that much of a difference to group dynamics, but she missed him terribly. She felt he understood her in a way only Angelina rarely did. She tried a few times to ask him questions on homework, but he would only reply in the quickest way possible.

"He's just being a silly boy, he'll come around," Paisley had said when Brienne asked her advice as they sat in a Divination lesson, the one class where all work and revision was completed in anticipation of the exam.

After having an excited fit that George had tried to kiss Brienne again, Angelina had said, "He's probably embarrassed, he practically lunged at you. He'll get over it eventually, just act normal."

Brienne considered asking Fred his advice, but didn't for fear that it would get back to George.

In the middle of May, the group were taking a well-earned break from work, lounging by the lake and lazily chatting. The cold from winter had finally disappeared, the bright sun returning with a welcome breeze. Brienne sat closest to the water, wearing a hooded jumper with her knees pulled up to her chin, watching Fred splash Angelina when she wasn't looking.

"It was the giant squid, I swear!"

"Stop splashing me, you moronic Hippogriff, or you're going _in_ that lake!"

George's voice jerked Brienne back to earth, "There's an owl coming."

They looked up, and indeed a tawny owl was flapping towards them, a bound scroll tied to her leg. Brienne leapt up in time for the owl to swoop over and land on her arm. She took the scroll and pulled it open. Her heart stopped as she recognised the handwriting.

_Dear Brienne,_

_I hope you've been keeping well, and had a good Easter. _

_Following on from my last letter, I can confirm that three prisoners have since been released from Azkaban after their arrest at the hands of your mother. Two of them were arrested solely by your mother, the other by both of your parents before you were born._

_All of these prisoners were prosecuted for the use of Dark Magic, therefore investigation is underway as to their current whereabouts, and their whereabouts at the time of your mother's murder. _

_I cannot say any more in this letter, but I hope to learn more before I can visit you and your father in summertime. _

_Until next time,_

_Best Wishes,_

_Stanley Meadowes, HA, OoMSC_

As she finished the letter, Brienne gulped, and wordlessly passed the letter to Angelina. It was only after the others had read it and it had been passed back to her before any of them spoke.

"It's good news. They're getting somewhere," Angelina said, "Any of those three criminals could have been the one who..."

She didn't finish the sentence, and for that Brienne was grateful; she had had particular trouble reading the word 'murder,' even after almost a year. Brienne folded the letter into quarters, before dashing out a cursory message of thanks and sending it back to Stanley with his owl.

On the eighth of June, exams started. Almost every subject had two exams each; a written exam and a practical exam, in which students were required to demonstrate their magical learning rather than write about it. After each exam was completed the fifth years' experienced a feeling of utter relief; Fred and George would both do a jig as they left the Great Hall after each written exam.

On the tenth of June, after finishing her Herbology exams, Brienne trudged up to the Common Room, dreaming of a hot bath to get the dirt from underneath her fingernails and to wipe away the layer of sweaty grime that has settled on her skin and hair after her successful re-potting of a Mandrake family. She stretched her back as she pushed through the Portrait Hole, where a gaggle of fifth and seventh years were relaxing by the sun-drenched windows.

She took the steps to the dormitory two at a time, and breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed the door open.

"Happy BIRTHDAY!"

Brienne stopped in her tracks, before bursting into laughter. Angelina, Fred and George were standing around her bed, all wearing a different colour paper hat. There was a small banner hanging around her headboard emblazoned with the words 'Happy Birthday,' ever changing in colour. A small pile of gifts sat in the middle of her bed, most of which Brienne recognised as the ones her father had sent the night before. Other than those, there were a handful of unfamiliar additions.

"What is this?!" Brienne stepped towards them, her thoughts of a hot bath disappearing as she did. "How on Earth did you two get up here?"

"We flew," Fred replied, indicating their Cleansweeps propped against a wall, "I know we said it to you this morning, but we knew you wouldn't want to actually act like it's your birthday until the exam was over. You boffin."

Her face broke out into a smile. "Aw, thank you so much, all of you." She hugged Fred and Angelina, before turning to George.

"It's no problem," he said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He squeezed her tightly around the waist; the first true contact the two had had in weeks.

Brienne turned to hide her blush, and knelt next to the small pile of presents. Before she reached for one, she looked self-consciously at her friends.

"Oh, just go for it," Fred said, grinning with his arms crossed, "Or I'll help you."

She picked up a rectangular present, heavy and wrapped with gold paper. It was distinctly book-shaped.

"Let me guess, this is from Paisley," Brienne mused aloud.

"Correct." Angelina jumped onto the foot of the bed and crossed her legs.

"'_Ways and Means of Comprehending Divination for the Enlightened and Pragmatic Young Witch'_."

"It's a bit late for that, the exam's tomorrow," George muttered in an undertone to his brother.

"She's done it again." Brienne wiped a tear from her eye in laughter.

Brienne opened the rest of her gifts: another Everlasting Chocolate Box from Fred and George, the last one having not been exactly everlasting, dress robes in deep purple from Angelina, and a box of suspiciously nice-smelling sweets from Lee Jordan. Additionally, there were some standard gifts from her father – a bottle of perfume and a fine chain bracelet - and an empty jewellery box from her French relatives.

As she sat in the piles of wrapping paper, Brienne looked over at her pals, each of which were looking at one of her gifts.

"I can hardly believe I've already been here for almost a year."

They looked up at that, and smiled.

"It feels like you've been here a lot longer," said Fred, "You big bore!"

He laughed to indicate it had been a joke, but she knew him so well she didn't need him to.

As the evening wore on, and the group began to go downstairs for dinner, Brienne lingered in the dormitory. She still wanted that bath, and picked up the book from Paisley to read while she was in it.

As Brienne reached the bathroom door, she turned to look back at her birthday presents. So much could change in a year. The year before, her mother had been alive. In her last birthday, she had received gifts in her dormitory at Beauxbatons, one including a note written in her mother's hand. She would never receive such a gift ever again.

As she thought this, there was a tapping on the window. The Sun was still setting despite the late hour, and she could see the black owl clearly as she approached. Brienne let it in, picked up the package it bore to see who it was intended for.

She stumbled back, gripping the thin, square, hard package tightly in her hands. Her jaw dropped, and she could hear the rush of blood whirring around her head.

The address said merely '_Miss Brienne Christie.'_

And it was written in the hand of her dead mother.


	22. Holding On, Letting Go

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 22**

Holding On, Letting Go

Brienne held a necklace in her hands. She steadied her feet, nudging the paper that she had hurriedly pulled away and dropped to the floor. On the bed was the thin cardboard box that had been wrapped in it. She felt the air _whoosh_ in and _puff_ out, in increasing degrees of rapidity.

It was her mother's necklace.

Brienne gripped the fine chain in her hands, her eyes never leaving the swinging pendant that she hadn't seen in fourteen months. Since she finished her Easter holidays and went back to Beauxbatons to finish her fourth year. Since she took her last, long, tight hug with her mother, breathed in that one last gulp of her Mama smell, and withdrew to see this necklace, this very same one, hanging around her mother's slender neck.

This necklace brought with it thousands of her mother's smiles, hundreds of times they had sat in the lounge together listening to the radio, dozens of glints of light that had flashed whenever she had walked through the sunlight. She gripped it so tightly, not looking away, not even daring to blink, until her eyes were watering. It was the most wonderful, most impossible gift she had never thought of. Brienne could only think of one thing that could be better.

Slowly, carefully, she loosened her grip on the chain one finger at a time, laid it down before stroking one finger over the pendant. Inch-thick silver, oval, large as a Galleon. Engraved circles graduating towards the centre.

Why would her mother send her this? Because it was her handwriting on the package—

Brienne dropped to the floor and snatched up the paper that she had so carelessly thrown aside. She picked it up, smoothed it out on the wooden top of her bedside table. The words '_Miss Brienne Christie' _were intact, with the swirl and swoop she knew so well. Brienne's mind worked to understand all of it, but after the endless studying and the exams of the last couple of days, she was tired. Her mind was boggled.

"_Angelinaaaa_!" She shouted as loud as her lungs would allow, and hoped that her friend hadn't gone down to dinner yet.

"Coming..." She heard Angelina call from the Common Room, her voice light and happy, not in keeping with the urgency of the situation.

By the time that Angelina reached the dormitory, Brienne was scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"What's the matter?" Angelina swept some hair over her shoulder absently, slowly taking in the scene before her as she approached.

"Look," Brienne said simply, pointing at the necklace sitting on the bed covers.

Angelina sank onto the bed and crossed her legs, before taking the necklace in her hands gently. "Oh, it's lovely," she breathed, "Did it just come now?"

"Yes. It's my mother's."

She looked over, a fitting appreciation forming on her face. "Really? Who sent it?"

Brienne gulped. "_My mother."_

"What?"

She held up the brown paper that held the words. "It's her handwriting. She wrote this. And she sent it."

"How is that..." Angelina tried to hide a wince as she continued, "_possible_?"

Brienne sighed. "I don't know. She might have sent it before she died, but it's just a year late?"

There was the obvious question in Angelina's eyes, and Brienne swallowed until her throat felt less thick before she answered it.

"She...didn't send it _recently. _She's not alive. I saw them bury her. I watched them until she was gone. And...now that I remember it, she wasn't wearing this. I remember being irritated about it; I thought that the Ministry were using it for evidence, or that it was stolen, or..."

The thickness in her throat returned and she was unable to continue.

"You never thought you'd see this again," Angelina supplied, looking sadly at the silver pendant which she held in her fingers, "Who are you writing to?"

"Auror Meadowes and my father," Brienne said, "I don't know if they will want it for any reason, but they should know my mother managed to send this to me before she- went. Until then..." she trailed off, held her hand out for the necklace and pulled the long, fine chain over her head. She pulled the pendant into place, it bumping against the receded swell of her stomach.

"It was as if she knew," Angelina uttered.

The next morning, Brienne attached both of her letters to Nyx's leg and sent him off to London, before plunging back into exams. After her birthday she experienced a feeling of anticlimax; acing her Herbology exams, all of her wonderful gifts from her friends and family, receiving her mother's necklace, gorging herself at dinner, all of it gave Brienne a welcomed break from the stresses that she had become used to.

Over the last weeks of intensive study, Brienne's weight had dropped down to almost her pre-Christmas weight, from rushing small portions at mealtimes, skipping lunches and marching around the castle between lessons in a near-constant state of anxiety in order to get more revision done. She still had a bit to go, and she was almost positive that it would rise back up as soon as the exams were over, so she was happy to settle as she was.

On the day after Brienne's birthday, the fifth-years had their written and practical Defence against the Dark Arts exams. They were required to arrive at the Great Hall an hour after breakfast ended for their theory test, and an hour after lunch for their practice.

The group had less than no idea what spells would be required for the practical exam. Just as for their Charms and Transfiguration tests they pored over the most prominent and difficult spells they had been taught, and had practised them as much as they could within the school rules.

Exactly one hour after lunch finished, the fifth years were pushed into four rows in the Entrance Hall by Filch and Professor Sinistra, and one student from each House was called into the Great Hall at a time to be assigned an examiner. When it was Brienne's turn, she waited with interest as – just like that morning - Filch passed a Secrecy Sensor over her necklace, with no reaction.

Swallowing mixed feelings of relief and disappointment, Brienne walked into the Great Hall, where the House tables had been replaced with four small desks, each presided over by an examiner. With a nervous grin, she walked over to the only unaccompanied examiner, sat in the far right corner of the Hall, shuffling papers before looking up at her approach.

"Good afternoon, dear," greeted the grey-haired woman, thin spectacles balanced on her nose. "Brienne Christie, is it? Well, there's no need to be nervous, no need at all. This should all go swimmingly."

Brienne got out her wand and rubbed the handle anxiously between her fingers as the assessor leant back in her chair. A fluffy feather quill twitched in her hand, poised over a clipboard. The sounds of spells from the other students began to quietly ring out, and Brienne took a deep breath.

"Now. Why don't we start with a Stinging Hex?"

Forty-five minutes later - and slightly wobbly from a backfiring Jelly-Legs Jinx - Brienne left the Great Hall, one more exam over. She saw Fred and George waiting, standing three students apart in the Gryffindor line before being shepherded away down another corridor.

As soon as she was out of view from the remaining students, Brienne stopped to try and brace her spongy knees, and to stretch her back. She let out a big breath of relief; other than the Jelly-Legs Jinx, she had remembered and performed every spell as best she could, hitting the targets and for the most part making the correct wand movements. It was the best she could have hoped for with Defence against the Dark Arts.

Brienne walked back up to the Common Room, her stomach rumbling, her limbs aching, and as she trod down the corridor towards the Fat Lady her chest began to drop as she anticipated the next exam. Only Potions, History of Magic and Divination to go.

Over the next two days, Brienne and her friends slaved over their last three exams to begin the following Monday.

The day after their Defence against the Dark Arts exam, while sitting in the dormitory, Brienne received a reply from Stanley Meadowes about her mother's necklace.

_Brienne,_

_What I want you to do is wrap the necklace back in whatever wrappings it came in. I want you to try and remember exactly what the owl that brought it looked like, and as close to the exact time it arrived that you can._

_Do __not__ wear the necklace. If you're wearing it already, __take it off, no matter what you feel or believe about it.__ I hope I don't need to tell an O.W.L student the kind of dangers that could be inflicted upon you by a cursed object. It may not be cursed or enchanted in any way, but you must take caution. _

_Please keep it in a safe place until you get back to London, where I can personally check its safety and previous whereabouts. _

_Belated birthday wishes,_

_Stanley Meadowes, HA, OoMSC_

Brienne tried to be mature about it, but she could feel nothing more than natural resentment as she pulled the necklace off, warm from her skin, and folded the brown paper wrappings back around it. She sent Stanley's owl back and sighed before plunging back into the mind-numbing History of Magic revision.

On Monday, after working tirelessly to remember and list (in order) all of the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion in her Potions theory O.W.L, she buckled down in the practical exam to create the best Invigoration Draught she had ever managed.

Brienne had a break from exams on Tuesday, as Fred, George and Angelina went down to the grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L. Since Brienne didn't take that lesson – there were no spaces left in the course when she enrolled, and she was far too uninterested and uncomfortable around animals to be that worried about it – she relaxed, reading Paisley's birthday present until they returned.

Wednesday was their Divination exam. Brienne, Fred, George and Paisley sat with their classmates in the corridor below their Divination classroom, waiting to be called in to be tested by the inspector. While the twins bickered over the result in a recent Quidditch game between England and Australia, Paisley and Brienne quietly discussed their strategies, for they had no idea what awaited them.

When Brienne was called into the classroom for her assessment, she looked around to find the windows thrown open to the warm sunshine. The fire was out and the air was clear, and she had never seen her Divination classroom so airy and bright. The male examiner was sat on one side of a small square table, holding the familiar clipboard and quill.

All in all, she felt the exam went well. When asked what she could see in a crystal ball, she narrowly avoided describing the birds flying past the window when reflected in the pearly surface. Reading the examiner's palm, Brienne predicted he'd have a long life – judging by the man's leathery wrinkled skin and sparse grey hair; she thought she couldn't go wrong. When Brienne stepped back down the trapdoor ladder thirty minutes later, she breathed a sigh of relief. Mostly, she was glad she didn't have to do any tarot readings.

On Thursday, finally, they sat through their two-hour History of Magic exam, Brienne in a near-constant state of ennui, writing down the details of goblin wars or the troll royal family as best as she could remember them. She had one golden moment of excitement as she remembered the exact wording of a question from one of her textbooks and wrote down the answer with giddiness. In total bliss, Brienne filed out of the Great Hall and waited with constrained glee for her friends. The moment that the twins, Paisley and Angelina came into view Brienne jumped up and down.

"It's over! Over! No more exams! No more studying!"

Fred burst out laughing and grabbed Brienne around the waist. He hoisted her over his shoulder and spun, both of them yelling in delight. Angelina slumped down to her knees and raised her arms in celebration.

"Oi! You lot shut up or I'll give you detention." Filch shuffled over from the other end of the Entrance Hall as more students spilled out of the Great Hall, muttering and discussing the exam.

"He can't give us detention...wait, can he?"

"Are you joking? We wouldn't be out of it if he could!"

They practically skipped back to the Common Room to collapse onto the comfiest armchairs by the fire, their heads lolling back in pure relief.

"Thank _Merlin_ that's over," Lee Jordan muttered, having entered the Common Room a few minutes after them and had slumped to the floor in front of Fred's armchair.

The group relaxed with a release that the rest of the fifth-years clearly shared. They exchanged muttered conversation for the rest of the day and couldn't be bothered to go down to dinner; when the fireplace was the dominant lighting in the room Brienne fell asleep, with a kind of relief that felt like a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She awoke in the middle of the night to find that George and Angelina were also asleep in their armchairs; Lee curled up on the rug by the dying embers of the fire. Fred was evidently the only one to make it upstairs to bed.

As she pulled herself up to go to the dormitory she took a deep breath and resigned herself to the fact she would be awake for the rest of the night. There was a clutch of guilt in her chest, which felt like it was dragging her diaphragm down towards the floor along with her mental and physical fatigue.

Tomorrow – or today, as it may have been – was the first anniversary of her mother's death. That information alone seemed to strike her in the chest whenever she had thought of it in the last few weeks.

Brienne slumped down onto her bed, the room dark and silent but for the breathing of her fellow classmates. She sank into the covers, closed her eyes and considered. Had it really been that long? But, then again, it felt like such a long time ago that she found out. Such a long time it had been since she had been pulled out of class and...who had told her again? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember the words "your mother had died" being spoken to her, or whatever variation of them that there was. Was it a teacher, or a classmate? Was it her older cousin Bernadette, who may have heard of it first because of her age? Brienne was too tired to think of it. She was sure she didn't want to remember anyway.

One year. If that length of time seemed far too long without her mother, then what about the span of years to come? The expanse and stretch of them in the future? It was a long and cold sweep of sand to trek across. But, she thought as Angelina trudged up the steps to collapse onto her own bed, she didn't have to trek it alone. That cold sweep of sand didn't have to be so cold.

The last day of term. Today they would board the Hogwarts Express and travel back to London for the summer holidays. Brienne's bags were packed, trunk tidy. The red-and-gold patchwork quilt of her bed was folded. The dormitory was empty except for her and Angelina, who were lolling on her bed, their heads turned towards the closest window. The trees of the Forbidden Forest were wafting in the summer breeze. Sunlight shafted through the window, illuminating the dust swirling in the air. Brienne breathed in, and she wondered just how much she would miss this dormitory.

Angelina flipped over onto her stomach, and propped her head onto a hand. "I can't believe summer's here."

"Finally."

"Yeah, finally." Angelina turned her head to look at Brienne. "Are you OK about today?"

Brienne heaved a sigh, and ran her hands over her stomach. "I don't really have a choice about whether to be OK or not. Today will always be this day, for the rest of my life, no matter what way I look at it. It will always be the day my mother died."

She sat up, and Angelina pushed herself up to sling an arm around Brienne's shoulder.

"I want to give you something," said Angelina.

Brienne turned her head, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"My birthday was only last week."

"Yeah I know, but this is for a different reason."

Angelina pulled her long braided hair up into a bun, and unclipped one of the many necklaces strung around her slender neck. She dropped it in a pool of fine chain in her hand and handed it over.

"What's this for?"

Angelina brushed some more hair back behind her eyes. "I noticed you seemed a bit sad that you're not allowed to wear your Mum's necklace anymore. So I thought I'd give you this to wear instead."

Brienne blinked in bewilderment, touched. "Oh, you don't have to, I mean—"

"Don't be silly."

"—but it's _yours._"

"And now it's _yours. _Besides, now you have something to remind you of us."

A loud crash sounded from the Common Room, and they could hear Fred cursing loudly and George laughing uproariously.

"Like I could forget. But thank you, it's beautiful." Brienne smirked in thanks and pulled the necklace over her head, holding up the pendant to look at more closely. It was small, spherical filigree mock-gold, a tiny amethyst ball rolling around in the middle. The metal wound in strands to meet in swirling coils.

Brienne grinned, dropped the pendant and leaned over to hug Angelina around the neck. Her friend hugged her back.

"I'll really miss you over summer," Angelina said, as if she hadn't quite realised it until then.

"You too."

An hour later, Brienne wandered out to the grounds. She usually hated the heat of summer, but it wasn't so bad in England. At least there was a passing breeze, and the promise that it would definitely rain at least once a week.

The grounds really were amazing. In front of her the tall, thick fir trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed gently with the breeze, striking and bold. To her right, the Black Lake and greenhouses, the smooth surface of the water reflecting the cloudless sky. And behind her, the castle. Brienne had decided long ago that Hogwarts would probably always be one of those places that never ceased to impress and stun with its dignified beauty.

She squinted her eyes from the sunlight and retreated back to the shade of the courtyard. It was as she stepped under the roof of the walkway around the courtyard that she saw the student standing there, staring out at the grounds just as she had been.

Brienne blinked at him in his full uniform, sure she knew him from somewhere. She stood there wondering for a moment, before noticing the moment had probably passed, and had just turned to leave when he spoke.

"So how did your O.W.L.'s go?" he said, straightening up and turning towards her, hands in pockets. His neatly knotted tie was striped with blue and bronze.

Brienne turned back, startled. "They went well, I think. Mostly. And you?"

The boy's mouth turned up on one side, and he removed a hand from his pocket, moved it up and down in a gesture of uncertainty. "Yes, I think so too."

She finally recognised him as being in her Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts lessons, and then her brain clicked.

"Oh, you're Auror Meadowes' son. Um..."

"Paul," he supplied obligingly.

"That's it. I'm sorry, your father knows mine. We used to play together, allegedly."

Paul's smile widened, and his pale green eyes flashed. "You know, I thoughtI recognised you from somewhere. It's why I spoke to you. Long time, then."

Paul spoke rather differently than anybody else Brienne knew. It sounded like he enunciated every word carefully, but reeled off the sentence smoothly and without pause. From the manner in which he held himself - hands in pockets and leaning his shoulders in ever so slightly – to the way he unabashedly had his shirt tucked in, and the fact that his default facial expression seemed to be an easy, peaceful grin. He was dapper. Brienne felt enveloped in his presence, despite the fact that they had barely talked before, and even then not for almost a decade.

"Yes, long time."

"Perhaps I'll see you over the summer," he raised an eyebrow, saying it like a statement instead of a question.

"I think our fathers will see to it."

"Indeed."

Brienne gave a smile, and a small wave as she turned. "I'll see you, then."

"Bye," he said cheerfully, already wandering out to the grounds, turning his face towards the sunlight.

The Owlery. The stinking owl droppings and splattered surfaces. Hundreds of birds bristled and flapped as Brienne walked in. The tall windows were bright but covered in a forgotten layer of grime. The light made the room look more cheerful than it was.

"Nyx!"

Almost immediately her black owl separated from the flocks and swooped down to her, landing gently on the closest stone ledge. Brienne smiled and walked over to where he hooted and hopped. She stroked his feathers, which he had managed to keep clean and glossy. He had grown a bit in the past months, now the size of most of the other owls around him instead of the head-sized baby he had been.

As he preened and trilled, Brienne heard the footsteps tapping on the stone floor in approach. She knew who it was before she turned.

George stood a few metres away in his Muggle clothes, hands in the pockets of his jeans, dressed in one of his 'G' jumpers knitted by his mother. His hair was slightly darkened from the shower he must have had earlier that morning.

"Hi," Brienne said simply, one hand still in Nyx's feathers.

"Hi," he said before clearing his throat.

His gaze drifted to the floor, and Brienne inwardly groaned. She had hated this silence between them over the last weeks. She couldn't bear it. She didn't want to bear it. But she knew that he must have gone there for a reason. Brienne turned her head back to Nyx, and waited.

"I'm sorry," he finally said after a few silent moments.

Well, she hadn't expected that. "What? What for?"

"For..." he gestured between the two of them, "this. It's just been so annoying. I never meant for things to get so awkward. If anything I meant for things to get _less _awkward. I mean...I should probably stop."

Brienne knew she couldn't help it, but her heart squeezed and she felt herself soften at how adorably uncomfortable he looked, nervously grinning and shoulders hunched up.

"I'm sorry too. It's my fault, really. I mean, it was you that..." she trailed off because she didn't know how to finish the sentence. He lifted his head hopefully.

"It was you that tried to kiss me. But, you know, it was me who...it was my fault that..." Brienne shook her head as if to try and organise her thoughts.

George threw back his head and laughed, eyes shining. "I don't think either of us are good at this."

_I want to be good at this_, she thought to herself, _but I'm just not_. She ran a hand through her hair, then thinking that it was a good sign that he had laughed.

"So. I'm, uh, just gonna say it." He thrust out his hands, palms-out. "I'm sorry for everything that I did, or almost did. I get that you probably weren't ready for it, or aren't, or whatever. Um, or you just don't...yeah. So, that's it."

He straightened up as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His more natural smile came back, and Brienne relaxed.

Except for one thing. Did he not think she liked him? As she stepped a little closer, she saw that through his calm exterior his eyes looked crestfallen, and his hands were fists at his sides, his body too wooden. Her mind reeled: she'd thought she'd been hugely obvious. Embarrassingly obvious. Couldn't he see that she had made a massive fool of herself that she had failed in kissing him twice now? He may have tried to initiate it but ultimately, the reasons the attempts failed was because of her. Because of her tendency to freeze, clam up, and for her face to show nothing but horror at what was happening. How _stupid _she had been. Why couldn't she have just relaxed and they would have kissed at _Christmas_ and then everything would be better than it is now.

Did he really think that her shock when he had tried to be close to her was a manifestation of repulsion, or disgust? Or that she was just repelled at the idea of closeness? Did he think he was unattractive? Or that she thought he was unattractive? How could he think such a thing when he was so...her mind scrambled at how _so _he was.

Yes, Brienne thought, looking up at him. He was _so so so so._

He just...warmed her. He made everything soft and sweet, like turning up the blinds on something blindingly bright, like making blissful quiet after deafening sound, like delicious respite after an age of restless fatigue. Like warm mince pies after a Dementor attack.

How was it that he didn't know that?

Brienne walked in close, reached up and placed her hands on George's cheeks. His eyes widened slightly, and then went back to normal as Brienne stood up on her tiptoes. Slowly, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. His pressed back, his hands resting lightly on the back of her ribcage.

Her hands slid down to his shoulders, and she stepped away. George's face was bloodless, the tips of his ears as red as his hair.

And for the first time in a year, Brienne felt a natural smile grow on her face, without laughter, not forced. She smiled because this was something that she didn't have to be afraid of.

Yes, there may be many things she should be afraid of in the world. People in particular. There were reasons for her to weep, reasons for her to hide. Reasons for her to hate and disdain. Her mother was gone, and that whirred in her mind constantly, even a year later.

_My mother is dead my mother is dead my mother is dead_

But there were also reasons for her to smile, or laugh. Blood Sweets in the Slytherin's lunch. Snowballs in the face. Pyjamas in classrooms. And bright red earlobes. Reasons to file away the bad things, for now. While she could.

She was happy.


	23. Epilogue

**The Joker and Her**

**Chapter 23**

Epilogue

The small, quiet French town had a visitor that night.

The collection of little yellow houses with high stretching roofs sliced shadow over the cobblestone ground, moonlight shafting in-between them. The peaceful, babbling brook which outlined the village lended the only sound, scenting the air with its damp soil and plant life.

Out of the silence a loud _crack_ sounded, and seconds later a figure darted through the moonlight into the shadows. He pressed his body close to one of the stone cottages, sliding along. Paused, as a villager over the way opened their window and stuck their head out, awoken by the sound. The hooded visitor paused, standing safe in the dark, until the Muggle went back inside.

He huffed in annoyance, a whisper of a sound, before continuing on his way. Having recently passed his Apparition exam he felt it a huge annoyance that he had Apparated in the middle of the town square. Mistakes like that wouldn't wash, not with him, and especially not with...well, in any case he had no business being late. And a casualty would have been so inconvenient.

A few minutes later, he broke free of the closely populated town centre and kept to the shade of the dense neighbouring trees as he approached another house, all grey stone and elongated ochre roof.

He slowed to a brisk walk as he reached the back gate, the rest of the rear of the house framed in two-metre high, pale stone. Having magically unlocked the gate, he was a few steps away from the back door before it flew open and a hand closed around the visitor's throat, a bright light illuminating inches away from his face.

"Reveal yourself," came a disembodied voice, hushed and in English, "I'm out of practise with Severing Charms, and it would be so fun to—"

The visitor merely let his hood fall back to reveal his face. As if in disappointment, the hand around his throat slackened, and the light whipped around to a point a few feet away. From the point of the light came the sound of a cracked egg, and steadily a man melted into existence.

He was tall, thick-set, dark hair and eyes. His face was older than his years, folded in lines of long-endured hatred and anger. He twirled his wand between his fingers, not extinguishing the light at the end of it.

In front of him the first figure frowned darkly. "You did not ask me for any verification," he said in a low voice and a thick French accent.

"Oh, shut it. That ugly mug of yours couldn't look nearly as repellent if someone was just pretending to be you. Now come on, she's waiting for you."

The second man turned on his heel and strode back into the house, sticking his wand in a pocket. The visitor rolled his eyes in barely-restrained derision before following.

After passing the seldom-used kitchen, the first man walked through the familiar main hallway and into the drawing room, the only room in the house – and indeed the village - where light blazed freely. Several lamps had been lit around the room, and the fire softly burned, filling the room with the smell of smouldering wood.

The second man walked over to lean on one of the walls close to the fireplace, pulling his hood up to shade his face. He crossed his arms and let his chin rest on his chest. Uninterested, the first man turned away from him and to the only other person in the room. The reason he was there in the first place.

She sat in an armchair, her slender form dwarfed by the imposing wooden frame. At seeing her young visitor she leant her elbows forward onto the table in front of her, twining her fingers together and resting her chin upon them. The firelight flickered on her face, setting her golden hair alight.

When her gaze flickered up to him, his lowered to the floor automatically, more of a sign of respect than any actual fear. Her tone was low, husky, and she spoke in French.

"Is it done?"

The boy jutted his chin down in a nod.

"_You_ Imperiused her?" the bodyguard barked out a laugh, and continued in English, "I didn't think you had it in you, Frenchie."

The boy turned slowly, his face contorted in a sardonic grimace. "I'm sorry, I was trying to forget you were here, what did you say?"

He turned back to his master. "It is done. Though I'm not sure it was not necessary. They appear to let anybody in that place." He sneered with disgust over his shoulder to the bodyguard.

The bodyguard growled, and his thick arm flexed in his pocket, fingers wrapped around his wand.

Quick as a flash, the boy whipped around and a flare of white light shot across the room before travelling up the bodyguards' arm. He cried out in a mixture of pain and rage before removing his wand, which immediately crackled with red magic.

"Enough," muttered the woman, who said it with the exhaustion of a woman who had already suffered the worst the world could throw at her. Having her little friends kill one another through petty contempt was not comparable, even laughable to what she had endured in her thirty-six years. Years that had destroyed all laughter and ravaged her once-unparalleled beauty. But through the frozen ashes of her downfall she had emerged. And she did not emerge – she did not survive _that_ – to listen to pathetic squabbling.

"_Children_," she uttered in her most dangerous tone, though both her visitor and her bodyguard had straightened up and put their wands away as she had opened her mouth to speak. The young guest returned to the table, where he awaited further acknowledgement.

The woman stood, revealing herself to be tall and slight. She swept around the table and closer to the window. She stood there for a few silent moments, feet planted, her hands linked behind her back.

"You've done good work," she finally said to her young friend, "as you will continue to do."

"I don't fully understand..._why_ I must do this," he replied in controlled solemnity, "Why I cannot join you _now_. Why did I need to Impurise-?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, grey eyes flashing in the firelight. "Finish school first. Do what you must do."

"You must know," she continued as she walked closer to her comrade, "that I am entrusting you with this task. Only you. Recognise the importance of that."

He nodded again, his deep hazel eyes looking straight at hers in this moment of significance. She swept her gaze over to her bodyguard for just a second, and back. The bodyguard straightened up and crossed his arms. In that moment the three of them were silently united in their pursuit.

The visitor pulled up his hood and turned for the door.

"Bye, sweetie-pie," said the bodyguard sardonically. The visitor walked out, leaving his remark unanswered.

When they heard the back door close and the boy's Disapparition a few moments later, the two remaining exchanged a look, before the woman turned back to the window.

She took a deep breath. Yes, it would start now. The beginning of the end. Then, she could finally die with peace. She had already killed the one who caused her pain, but yet, it hadn't been enough. It was because the score hadn't been settled.

Why did the boy have to go to Hogwarts? She still needed to kill one more.

And she went to Hogwarts' School.

A/N: Thank you all for all of your wonderful reviews and follows. Yes, this year of The Joker and Her is over, but there is more coming. And I promise, I won't take too long to update this time. Believe me, it's not over.

Thanks again

AvatarBliss


End file.
